


The Price of Debt

by storyplease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyplease/pseuds/storyplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An in-progress work, but can be read as a one-shot.  I'll gauge interest based on kudos and comments to see if anyone is interested in a continuation of this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**** The venom slid through his veins like razor wire. It was the most excruciating pain he'd ever felt, and that was saying something, all things considered. He would have screamed but for the fact that the damned serpent had torn his vocal cords to shreds and he could feel his blood pouring from the wound. 

 

He was delirious with blood loss and pain almost instantly. Time staggered forward in great, stuttering clips that seemed to slow down and then speed up randomly. He saw something. A flash of green?  

 

No. It couldn't be. 

 

His mouth was saying something, but he couldn't remember what it was. The taste of copper filled his mouth and his tongue felt thick and heavy, as though it were filled with lead. He remembered crying, or was that someone else?  Something?  Memories poured from his body. 

 

After all, he wouldn't need them anymore. 

 

Darkness. 

 

He didn't remember closing his eyes. Perhaps he had, though.

 

It was so hard to think, to focus. 

 

Everything seemed far away, now, even the pain. 

 

He was thankful that at last it was finally over. 

 

_ Freedom _ . 

 

As the darkness closed in around him like a thick, soothing blanket, he knew that no master could follow him where he was going. 

 

He smiled. Death was already being far kinder to him than life had ever been. 

* * *

  
  


The light was blindingly bright. Someone was screaming. It took his brain a long moment to realize that the screams were coming from his own mouth. 

 

"...was dead!"

 

"Couldn't....she... _ impossible _ !"

 

Words assaulted his ears. None of them made sense or formed coherent sentences that held any meaning for him. 

 

Pain flowed through his chest and he screamed again even though he still felt rather detached from his body. Murky, indistinct shapes danced before his eyes and suddenly red light filled his vision. Before he felt himself fall back down into the warm comfort of oblivion, he heard a familiar voice say, "Thank Merlin, he's alive!"

 

It was then that he knew that he'd survived.  Instantly, his heart filled with despair. 

 

Apparently life hadn't yet had its fill of kicking him when he was as far down as he could go. 

* * *

  
  


“I know you're just pretending to be asleep, you  _ bastard _ !"  

 

"Ron! You know that we're not supposed to be interfering with his recuperation!"

 

"Oh I'm sure that George will be glad to hear that, huh Harry?  Oh right, if you want him to hear what you're saying, you'll have to be sure to speak near the ear that wasn't cut off by this arsehole right here!"

 

"Ron...you know that I'm not minimizing-"

 

"Yes you are, Harry! That's exactly what you're doing. You see one goddamn Pensieve memory-"

 

"Several, actually."

 

"So what if you saw a billion of them? Just because Snape wanted to snog your mum doesn't mean he was some kind of bloody hero. Or did you forget how much of an  _ absolute git _ he was to us year after year? How he  _ murdered _ Dumbledore  _ in front of you?!  _ You seemed to have a pretty accurate read on the man for seven years straight and now suddenly you're the head of the Severus bloody Snape fan club! He's not suddenly a nice person just because he did a couple of un-shitty things in his stupid, miserable life!"

 

"Ron!  Wait!"

 

The sound of a door crashing closed filled his ears and he controlled the urge to flinch. 

 

It was true. Severus  _ had _ been pretending to be asleep. The last thing he wanted was to have an awkward heart to heart with the Boy Who Had Apparently Lived, especially since it seemed as though he'd somehow given the boy access to his memories somehow, judging from the rather inaccurate version of his and Lily's friendship that Weasley had regurgitated. Part of his mind idly wondered if it would be possible to goad Weasley into finishing the job that Nagini had started, but it would be unlikely if anyone else was nearby to stop him from doing it. 

 

_ Note to self: next time, when bitten by a massive, bloody snake, have the good sense to die before parting with any humiliating memories that will be used to haunt you for the rest of eternity.  _

 

He couldn't speak, but that didn't matter. He'd never been much for conversation, as there were few he could speak candidly with and even fewer who he wished to talk with in the first place. 

 

No, when it came to Severus Snape, everything was in his head, and it was with great relief that he realized that his mind has survived intact. His body could have been broken beyond repair, but the thought of losing himself and being reduced to nothing more than a human-shaped vegetable was utterly repulsive. 

 

He'd already figured out that some of his memories were missing. They felt fuzzy and indistinct, nagging at his conscious mind like a corn kernel stick in his gum that he couldn't reach. 

 

When he heard no other movement, he opened one eye very slowly, still wincing in the low light in the room. He was in a hospital bed of some sort, and it was obviously a single room, which he knew were rare. The rune-etched shackle that anchored his right arm to the bed was an obvious reminder that he was not just a patient. 

 

He was also a prisoner. 

 

Footsteps were approaching again.  Hushed voices spoke back and forth to one another, though they were hard to understand from the other side of the door. Severus didn't hesitate. He closed his eyes once more, his face relaxed as though blissfully unconscious.

 

_ If only.  _

 

It was then that a strange feeling began to pulse and grew in his belly, a kind of giddy and ticklish sensation as though he'd been filled with champagne bubbles. He’d felt it before, but it had never been as strong as this, probably because the last person to cause a similar reaction had only met the barest requirements for it.

 

_ Shit.  A life debt.  _

 

The only good news was that at least he knew it couldn’t be Weasley or Potter. Or any of the blasted Marauders since they were all blessedly dead now. Unlike himself, though not for lack of trying.

 

He snorted at the irony of it all.  

 

At least it couldn’t get any worse.

* * *

  
  


He’d been terribly, horribly wrong.

 

“Harry, I told you not to tell Ron about the results of the  _ Priori Incantatem _ !” 

 

“Hermione, you know that the results are public record.  They’ve been printing them up in the Daily Prophet every week.”  Harry sighed loudly as though this were an old argument

 

“I know, but Ron doesn’t get the Prophet.  You could have at least had the decency to keep yours away from him! The way he tells it,  _ I’m _ at fault for his brother losing his ear just because I saved Professor Snape’s life!  We’ve been rowing about it for the last week and a half, and I’ve gotten to the point that I’m about to consider leaving the Burrow altogether even though I don’t have anywhere to go yet!”

 

“Well, you do have to admit that it might have been better if you’d just let him…” Harry trailed off.

 

“What,  _ die _ ? Are you really so heartless, Harry?!”  Hermione’s voice had grown shrill and Severus was glad that his eyes were closed, for her eyes were probably flashing with anger. “You gave  _ Voldemort _ himself a chance to turn himself in before your final dual, and yet you think that the Professor  _ deserves _ to die?”

 

“That’s not what I…” Harry’s voice trailed off and he sounded somewhat petulant.  

 

Severus, however, knew that this was exactly what Harry had meant.  And, to some extent, he agreed with Harry, as much as it pained him to even consider it.

 

He would, after all, rather be dead than owe a massive life debt to one Hermione Granger.

 

“He belongs in Azkaban!”

 

“We’ve been over this a hundred times, Ron!  I need him.”

 

“What for, huh? Have you been secretly involved with him or something?”   
  


“Ron, that was uncalled for!”

 

“Saving his goddamn  _ life _ was uncalled for! Everyone would be happier if he was rotting in the ground!”

 

“You...you.... _ fine _ !  You know what?! Get out of here!  I’ll handle this myself!”

 

“FINE!”

 

“ _ FINE _ !”

 

Hermione entered the room and slammed the door behind her, her eyebrows lowered and her cheeks flushed with anger.  Severus was sitting up in bed, sipping tea with a mild expression on his face.  His dark eyes, however, were sharp as ever and they followed her movements as she set her briefcase on the floor and flopped heavily into the chair near the bed.

 

“I’m sorry if you heard any of that,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose as though trying to rub away a headache.

 

“It would have been hard not to, seeing as neither of you seem capable of speaking below a dull roar when in each other’s presence.”  Severus winced at the pain of speaking, his voice coming out thin and gravelly.  The healers at St. Mungo’s were skilled at what they did, but Nagini’s bite had caused extensive damage that even magic would take time to heal.

 

Hermione made a noise behind her hand that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter.

 

“I know that you’re not yet fully healed,” she started, “but I thought it would be best to level with you.  As of today, you’re facing life imprisonment in Azkaban for your activity as a Death Eater.  However, both Harry and myself have done all we can to clear you of these charges.  The Pensieve memories that you provided Harry were incredibly useful.  Headmaster McGonagall has also been able to dredge up paperwork and other documentation from Dumbledore’s vault that proves that you were working for Dumbledore all along and that your spying was one of the main reasons that we were able to vanquish Voldemort at all.”

 

“Go on.” Severus had crossed his arms and was sitting rigidly in bed, the tea forgotten on the tray next to the bed with the rest of his uneaten breakfast.

 

“The thing is, the public is still clamoring for blood.  The Daily Prophet really hasn’t helped, either.  So...we reached a decision.” Hermione sighed and pulled open the briefcase, taking out a rolled piece of parchment and handing it to Severus with a weary smile.

 

He unrolled the parchment and looked through it, his eyes widening as he read the words therein.

 

“Harry and Ron have been given pretty much instant induction into the Aurors,” Hermione said, as Severus finished reading and looked up at her once more, his expression guarded, “Honestly, though, I doubt Ron will last.  He’s been talking about going and helping George...well, that’s not really important. The important thing is that as a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Agency of Great Britain Field Division, I’ve been tasked with tracking down the remaining Death Eaters who have escaped. The fact that you switched sides and became a spy for the Order tells me that you will be well-suited for the task ahead if you choose to accept it.  Your wand will be returned to you, though it will be equipped with a Limiter, and once you finish assisting with the capture of the rest of the Death Eaters, you will be given your freedom and a full pardon for any crimes committed.”

 

“What is the catch?” Severus rasped, staring at her with impassive eyes.

 

“C-catch? I’m not sure I-” Hermione stammered.

 

“The catch, Miss Granger,” Severus replied wearily, “There is always a catch.”

 

“It will be dangerous, obviously,” Hermione replied, her brow furrowing, “And the Limiter will prohibit you from using your wand in ways that could kill or fatally wound your opponents.  You’ve been unconscious for nearly six months, Professor.  With the help of my coworkers, I was able to develop a device that slips onto a wand easily and prevents lethal force.  It’s not yet the law to have one on your wand, as many believe it limits the potential magic of that wand, but those who are on probation or parole from Azkaban are required to have them and the program has really helped to reduce recidivism.”

 

“Miss Granger.”

 

“Please, call me Hermione. I’m nearly nineteen years old now.”  Hermione’s voice was kindly and it grated on his nerves.

 

“How do you know that I won’t simply kill you the muggle way and flee the country?” Severus replied, his shredded voice darkening.

 

Hermione flushed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

 

“W...where did that come from?” she stammered.

 

“I asked a simple question,  _ Hermione _ ,” Severus replied, his voice deadpan, “but if I must rephrase it, I shall.  How do you propose to keep me, an accomplished wizard, spy and Potions master who is more than twenty years your senior, in line?”

 

“Don’t you feel it?” Hermione asked suddenly, and it was his turn to be stunned into silence.

 

“ _ What _ ?” he asked quietly after a long, awkward pause.

 

“The Life Debt.”  It wasn’t a question.  She  _ knew _ .  

 

_ Goddamn it. _

 

“What about it?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant and failing horribly.

 

“If you try to harm me, you will die,” she replied matter-of-factly, “In fact, I’ve had it checked out by my superiors and they’ve confirmed it, which is the only reason they’re letting me offer you this partnership.”

 

Severus looked away and muttered something under his breath.

 

“What was that?” Hermione looked puzzled.

 

“I  _ said _ , what if I  _ want _ to die?” Severus replied, his voice choked with bile.

 

“That’s a terrible thing to say, Professor!” Hermione replied, standing up so quickly that he shrunk backwards instinctively until his head was pressed against the headboard of the hospital bed.

 

“Well, it’s true.  I never asked to be saved,” he rasped, “And that’s another thing! Don’t call me  _ Professor _ ! That’s not who I am anymore. Not after all of this…”

 

“Just...think about it,  _ okay _ ?” Hermione looked as though she wanted to reach forward and squeeze his hand.  

 

He snatched it away before she could make a move and looked pointedly at the far wall. He knew that he was being churlish and immature, but at that moment he didn’t care.  

 

“You can do some real good in this world, you know, Mr. Snape,” Hermione said as she stood by the door. “I can give you until the end of the week before I have to give my superiors an answer.  Keep the paperwork and think about it.  I know you think I’m just some kind of know-it-all kid, but I promise that I’ll pull my weight and I won’t invoke the Life Debt unless you seriously step out of line for some reason. I wish that things could have been different, but..this is just how things are right now.”

 

“Miss... _ Hermione… _ ”  His voice sounded tired, and he still wouldn’t look at her, but he felt like he had to say it.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Call me Severus.  Mr. Snape was my father, and the less I’m reminded of him, the better.  I shall think on what you have told me and give you an answer tomorrow evening.”

 

With that, he went silent and picked up his tea with his free arm, still refusing to meet her gaze.

 

“Thank you... _ Severus… _ ” she said softly, her mouth catching awkwardly on the unfamiliar name. “I hope that you continue to recover quickly.”

 

She shut the door quietly behind her and it was only then that Severus dared to look up at the frosted glass window that was built into the top half of the door to his room.  

 

The outline of her bushy haired head lingered there, unmoving, for a long moment. Then, it was as though some spell had been broken and he heard her soft footsteps receding down the hallway until they’d disappeared altogether.


	2. Re-Leashed

 

“When I said that I accepted your little proposition, I did not consent to being placed in a collar and led around like a dog on a leash!” Severus growled angrily, instantly regretting having overtaxed his voice when a terrible burning sensation traveled up his throat and worked its way around his jaw before dropping sharply into his chest and squeezing tightly around his heart.

 

“It’s just until we get out of the city, Severus,” Hermione said sympathetically, as she clipped on the long, rune-marked length of leather to the thick, metal shackle that concealed the remaining horror of what Nagini had done to him, “I have orders not to give you a wand until we are well shot of London.”

 

“I see, so you’re parading me through the streets of Wizarding Britain because you have no other choice?” Severus replied, sneering coldly at her, “Or is it because you know that every lookie-loo in the country is going to be standing with bated breath hoping to catch a glimpse of the great, humbled Death Eater.”

 

“Now, see here, Severus,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, beginning to sound irritated, “I had to negotiate pretty hard to keep you out of that horrible  _ Hannibal Lecter _ mask they originally wanted you to wear. And they did want you put in striped Azkaban robes, but I told them that it would be much easier for you to blend in once we’re in the field if you were allowed your customary attire.”

 

Severus looked down at the dark sleeves of his frock coat and rubbed the cuff between his thumb and forefinger.

 

“It seems  _ softer _ than usual,” he said absently, his voice still sounding as though this was a terrible slight against him, “What did you do to it?”

 

“It...wasn’t in any state to be worn so I laundered it.” Hermione flushed slightly and she frowned, her voice growing somewhat sheepish. “I...may have also made a couple of useful additions to it…”

 

Severus stared at the cloth suspiciously and then looked up at her, raising an eyebrow in askance.

 

“For one, I noticed that you’d added an all-purpose runic protection mark for stains and corrosive compounds, but it was getting worn, so I reinforced it so that it will also take most heavy-hitting hexes,” Hermione replied, shrugging, “Besides, I figured it is the least I can do, seeing as we’re going into a potentially dangerous situation.”

 

“And by  _ potentially _ , you mean...?” Severus trailed off, his expression going from vaguely impressed to exasperated in seconds.

 

“Let’s face it.  There are a lot of Death Eaters that we still do not know about,” Hermione said, adopting a somewhat lecturing tone of voice. “From what we learned at Draco’s hearing, not even he knew the total number of Death Eaters.  Malfoy Manor was only one of a number of locations that Voldemort was keeping his various...minions, so other than some of the more vocal and fervent supporters, most of whom thankfully perished in the final battle, we still have many that are left unaccounted for.  Many were wearing masks at the final battle and fled before they could be captured.  Some of them may be hiding in plain sight, and we know that a number of them are powerful enough to pay for a hit.”

 

“What,  _ exactly _ , are you saying?” Severus asked, his face growing pale.

 

“I am saying, Severus,” Hermione replied, looking very serious now, “that it is not just my job to keep you alive.  It is also my job to keep you safe from harm.  Sure, the Life Debt you owe me ensures that you will take care of me whether you want to or not, but I would like you to know, in no uncertain terms, that as my partner, I will not think twice about protecting you if it comes down to that.  You are not expendable, regardless of what  _ some _ would have you believe.”

 

“Don’t you mean  _ everyone _ ?” Severus replied sardonically. “Even the old man made me murder him, as though I wouldn’t care if he lived or died.  He was the only one who  _ knew _ me.  Sometimes, I think that he knew me better than I did.  How else could he have made me...well...in any case, it isn’t as though I have a choice.  I’ve made my decision.  I am coming with you, and if I die, then it will simply be a state of being that I’ve somehow put off for far too long.”   
  
Hermione looked horrified.  “Surely you can’t mean that!”

 

Severus shot her a disparaging look.

 

“Death does not frighten me, not anymore, it is merely inevitable. It is waiting for how it will come to me that I find nearly unbearable. Now, then, if you are finished with this lovely train of thought, I believe it’s time to go out into the fray.”

 

Hermione seemed to want to say something, but then she shook her head as though to clear her thoughts and then nodded.

 

“It will be over soon,” Hermione promised him, as she placed her hand on the door that led out into the lobby and the roaring crowd beyond.

 

“I have heard that statement before, and it never fails to be  _ wrong _ ,” Severus replied with a derisive snort. “It’s not too long for you to back out. There is no shame in giving up on a physically repugnant Death Eater. I am surprised that you got this far, what with Potter and Weasley doing their best to lock me away from the light of day forever.”

 

“I am  _ not _ giving up!” Hermione hissed intensely, turning back to glare at him, “I don’t expect you to understand how I feel, but I think that you deserve a chance to prove that you deserve your freedom.  And before you say anything cruel, I think that  _ I _ deserve to be given a chance as well, even if you just say it because of the Life Debt.”

 

He flinched slightly at the mention of the Life Debt, but did not stop regarding her with his still, serious eyes. Finally, he nodded.

 

“Very well,” he said, “Lead on, then, Mistress.”

 

Hermione flushed at the term.

 

“D..don’t call me that!” she stammered.

 

“You are the one that holds the leash, metaphorically  _ and _ literally,” he replied flatly, shrugging. “How else should I refer to you?”

 

“Just...Hermione. Hermione is fine.”

 

His lips twitched slightly for just a moment and then fell flat once more.

 

“Then...lead on,  _ Hermione _ .” His voice dropped an octave as it lingered on carefully pronouncing each syllable of her name.

 

Hermione tried to stop herself from shivering, from reacting to how his voice affected her, redirecting her nervous energy into throwing the door wide until it slammed against the wall.  Even though the lobby was deserted, even the Silencing Charms weren’t enough to disguise the roar of the crowd outside.  Her pulse began to quicken.  Hermione had never liked crowds much, even when she was getting awarded the Order of Merlin. Kingsley had promised her an Auror detail, but she knew that nothing was one hundred percent, especially when Harry and Ron would probably be part of the group looking at her as though she’d gone off the deep end.

 

“I will protect you, Severus. I promise,” Hermione said as she led him along, hoping she sounded more sure of herself than she was.

 

“That is what I’m afraid of,” he drawled, following behind her at a measured pace with his arms crossed.

 

Hermione only had the time to glance back at him for a moment before the doors were open and the lights of flashbulbs were blinding them in the harsh light of day.

 

In the end, he was right.  

 

It wasn’t over quickly at all.


	3. Aftermath

 

Severus sat on the curb, his head in his hands.  His clothing was streaked with a number of substances, and his head had bits of burst tomato still sticking to it.  Hermione stood in front of him, making soothing noises as she Scourgified him gently.  

 

A small moan of humiliation escaped his throat, but other than that, it was hard to tell how he was feeling with his face hidden like that. Hermione’s heart throbbed with sympathy, even though she knew that he’d done his share of terrible things. It didn’t justify  _ this _ , though.

 

The walk through Wizarding London had been a fiasco.  Severus had been completely right.  It was basically a walk of shame designed to create a target for those angry and disenfranchised by the war who had been targeting the Ministry instead.  Hermione had hoped it would be better than that in practice, but it was as though someone had put up flyers to advertise their departure.  Thousands of wizards and witches were on the sides of the streets, many who were wearing outfits that looked as though they’d come from outside Wizarding Britain just to see a Death Eater in the flesh.  Severus had walked quickly, his head down, seemingly unable to hear the jeers and threats from the people on the sidelines.  There had been some angry people in the crowd who’d tried hexes and jinxes, but at least there’d been a barrier put in place on either side of the street that had absorbed the curses and kept people from getting too close.  This seemed to make the crowd more angry, which had led to them throwing things, all of them unpleasant.  

 

Hermione had deflected most things with her wand, and the Aurors on duty had responded against some of the more violent instigators, but she’d noticed how they hadn’t spent much effort shielding Severus from being pelted with the more humiliating and harmless substances.  His back and shoulder were coated with dragon dung, which stank of sulphur, and his hair had been hit with a swarm of rotting vegetables that had been launched from a garbage can by some cruel bystander.  Hermione had heard the Aurors laugh when a banana peel had hit Severus across the face, its center sticking to his nose like a yellow and black octopus.

 

“That’s the worst of it,” Hermione said, trying to control the quiver in her voice.  She was fairly certain they hadn’t been followed, but she still didn’t let her guard down, just in case.  Once they’d crossed over the point that Kingsley had set aside for Apparition, she’d wrapped her arm around Severus, hating how he stiffened at her touch, as though expecting her to hurt him.  There was no time to go slow and let him process it, though, and she’d Side-Along Apparated him away just as a volley of owl pellets shot towards where their heads had been.

 

“This way,” she said, starting out in front of him.  She knew that he was still trying to compose himself. Even though there was a lot of travel and certain danger ahead, she couldn’t fault him for being upset.  She was actually amazed how well he’d handled the shouts and the abuse from so many.  It was obvious that Severus was not the sort of person who enjoyed being the center of attention at the best of times, and this was a far cry from that.

 

Even though Hermione knew that she wasn’t the main target, she’d heard a fair amount of abuse being hurled upon her as well.  Everything from her mind to her body was insulted, and many still had called her “a Death Eater’s Whore,” which kept drawing her mind back to Bellatrix slipping the knife into her skin, branding her for life.

 

No.  Hermione would never allow  _ anyone _ get that close to her again.  

 

Next time...next time she was certain that she would fight back.  She wouldn’t lie on the floor like some helpless, screaming victim.  She’d logged the time in the Ministry’s combat rooms.  She’d gotten to the point that defensive spells were nearly subconscious and she was able to raise a shield charm before she saw the threat.  That, and the copious amount of bottles and tools she had stored in the bag attached to her belt with a Permanent Sticking Charm, a bag that only she could access (anyone else would open the bag and find themselves with a handful of stinging nettles), Hermione knew that she was ready.  Having a wizard who was not only a famous Death Eater but powerful in his own right as well to back her up was just the cherry on top.  Hermione had never hated him the way her schoolmates had.  Sure, he had moments of being unfair and cruel, but so did every professor she’d had in school.  Now that Hermione knew that he hadn’t even wanted to be a professor in the first place, it made even more sense why he was such a bitter, angry person.

 

Hermione took a deep breath and stretched as wide as she could, which lessened the tension in her body but did not remove it completely.  

 

“Where are we going?”  Severus was next to her, his head and shoulders drooping forward with shame.

 

“You obviously need to be cleaned up better than magic can accomplish,” Hermione said with a shrug, “I’m merely taking us to a safe place where we can both take care of any necessary hygiene needs before we start our journey.  Now, keep up.  We aren’t going far.  I just needed to be sure that we aren’t being followed.”

 

Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, Hermione pulled her wand and cast a few detection spells, shooting them into the sky. They would be invisible to muggle eyes and very difficult for most wizards to detect unless they knew that they were there.

 

Nodding with satisfaction, she turned the corner and led them to a house in the middle of a residential street.

 

“Don’t worry,” Hermione said, as she dropped the wards around the house, “It’s safe.  My parents are still in Australia, but I got to keep their house.  The utilities are still running, so use as much hot water as you’d like.  You can go upstairs and leave your clothing in the hamper outside the door.  My robes need to be laundered as well, so I’m going to change and start a load.”

 

Hermione opened the door and they entered, Severus taking the lead as Hermione locked and warded the door. 

 

“You can go up the stairs.  The bathroom is on the left.” 

 

Severus nodded silently before looking up at her, as though he’d only just remembered something.

 

“Can...I...have it?” he asked, his eyes wide with an intensity that made Hermione shiver, though she wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or pleasure.

 

“Oh!  Yes, here you go,” she said, summoning his wand from her bag and pointing at the silver band around the tip. “This is the Limiter.  It should allow for you to cast most of your regular spells, but if you’d like to practice, I’ve turned my parents’ old bedroom into a training room, so you can practice with it once you’re washed up.”

 

“Thank you. Er….Hermione?”  His voice was suddenly filled with shame and Hermione found herself furrowing her brow in confusion. 

 

“What’s wrong?” she replied, wondering why he suddenly seemed so nervous, shifting his weight from side to side restlessly as he stood at the foot of the stairs.

 

“I...only have these clothes,” he said finally, his face growing scarlet with embarrassment.

 

“OH!” Hermione exclaimed, feeling stupid for not having realized this.  If she was laundering his clothing, he would be…no.  She couldn’t even think the words.

 

“I have a couple of my dad’s old outfits in the attic,” she said finally, “They may be a bit dusty but they’ll be clean. I’ll bring them down for you and leave them outside your door.”

 

“Thank you…” he trailed off and turned, his footsteps so soft on the stairs that he seemed to be gliding up them instead of walking.

 

Hermione merely shook her head and followed him after she heard the bathroom door slam.  She changed in her room and then threw the soiled robes in the hamper, noting that he’d placed all of his clothing into the bottom already. She traveled down to the laundry room and set to work rinsing and spraying the soiled clothing in the large sink by the washing machine before setting them inside the washer to run.  Her work done there, she went up to the attic and fetched a set of clothing that she knew would be far too big for Snape, but it would do in the interim.  She pulled out a belt for good measure.  It wouldn’t do for him to worry about his trousers falling down with every step.

 

The thought made her giggle, despite herself.

 

She deposited the clothing in front of the door and called out to him, letting him know that the clothing was there and that she’d meet him in the kitchen after he was finished.

 

Then, Hermione set to making tea and slicing up some fruit.  She made a couple of finger sandwiches as well.  After all, she wasn’t sure when she’d next get the chance to eat home-cooked food.  She’d pulled the milk from the fridge and stood, nearly crying out at the ghost-like visage of Severus standing at the entrance to the kitchen.  The trousers were an ivory and hung on his thin frame.  His ankles were showing, as the legs were slightly too short.  He was swimming in the light gray hoodie, which said “Cambridge” on the front in big, golden letters, but for some reason, it was his hair, which had been braided back and secured with a pink hair tie that Hermione supposed was one of her own, that surprised her the most.

 

“I’ve never seen your hair back like that,” she admitted, feeling herself blush slightly even though she couldn’t stay why she would do such a thing.

 

He shrugged. “My hair was wet and I don’t trust myself with muggle hair dryers.  Drying charms always leave my hair even more greasy than usual, which is the opposite outcome of a shower, or so I’ve been told.  This way is the only method I’ve found to keep my hair from tangling or dripping all over my clothing while it is like this.”

 

Hermione nodded, gesturing at the food on the table.

 

“I made something to eat.  Please help yourself.”

 

He nodded silently and sat at the table, which filled Hermione with a strange sense of nostalgia and amusement. Nostalgia, because she remembered her father sitting at the table in that hoodie, reading the newspaper, and amusement, because the idea of Snape sitting at the table in her childhood home wearing such an outfit was nearly enough to set her into a fit of giggles.

 

She’d sat down across from him and was nearly finished with her second cup of tea when she realized he was staring at her intensely.  He hadn’t eaten much, and half of a forgotten sandwich sat on his plate as he steepled his fingers in front of him, looking like he was about to say something.

 

“Hermione,” he said, at last, and she nearly jumped out of her chair.

 

“W...what?” she replied, coughing on the sip of tea she’d nearly inhaled.

 

“I... _forgive_ _me_...I have to know,” he said, and suddenly his wand was in his hand as though he’d drawn it out of nowhere.

 

“What are-?” Hermione stood and tried to summon her wand to her hand, which lay on the counter where she’d left it as her stomach dipped and churned with a sick sense of foreboding.

 

“This won’t hurt much,” Severus said flatly, his wand tip nearly touching her nose. 

 

“No...stop...I-!”

 

“ _ Obliviate _ .”


	4. On Pain of Death

 

Hermione blinked. 

 

She blinked again. Bright spots danced before her eyes and it took a few moments to realize that a strange noise was filling the air. At first, she thought that she must have left the kettle on again, but the sound was not nearly high-pitched enough to be the sound of escaping steam. 

 

She stood and realized that there was a figure lying on the floor, only he was contorted upwards in such a painful arc, it looked as though his spine was about to snap in half. A broken whine escaped his lips and it only seemed to pause as he drew in a short ragged breath, only to continue on in misery. 

 

“Severus!” Hermione stood and rounded the table with her wand drawn. “ _ Finite Incantatem _ !”

 

Severus went limp at once, his arms and legs still twitching with pain. The only thing that even hinted that he was still alive was the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he sucked in ragged breaths. 

 

She found his wand under the table, where it had rolled during his ordeal and pocketed it. 

 

“Severus,” she said, finally, shaking her head, “whatever were you thinking?”

 

He didn't reply at first. And then, a shuddering, brittle noise escaped his lips and she realized that he was laughing bitterly. 

 

“What's so funny?” She demanded angrily, “You already know the situation, so why would you even-”

 

She shut her mouth abruptly as a disturbing thought occurred to her. 

 

“You knew that it wouldn't work, didn't you?” She stifled a horrified gasp. 

 

“You know, I thought it would be enough, but apparently not,” Severus rasped, making no effort to get up. “Of course, the pain was immediate and without mercy, but it is, after all, my fault to begin with. Do not concern yourself with me. I deserve all this and more.”

 

Hermione shot a furious look at him and bent forward with her hand outstretched. 

 

“I'm not going to leave you on the floor, Severus,” she said with a sniff, “Just because I'm angry that you tried a stupid stunt like that, doesn't mean that I'm some sort of mannerless savage. Come on, then.  Up you get!”  

 

He took her hand, refusing to look at her, but Hermione was fine with that. 

 

“If it makes you feel any better-”

 

“It won't!” she hissed back, helping him into a chair, “I promised you your freedom in exchange for helping me and then you go and try to push on the Life Debt enough to see if harming me would be enough to end you!”

 

His eyes widened with surprise and she knew that she’d hit the nail on the head.

 

“I was afraid that if I tried it at St. Mungo’s that they’d figure out some way to revive me,” he muttered softly.

 

“It’s funny that you went with an  _ Obliviate _ ,” Hermione replied, her face growing sad, “In fact, it’s almost poetic, really. I used a modified version on my parents combined with a potion to give them false memories.  They deserve to be happy, after all.  And if being happy means that they can’t remember me, so be it.”

 

He looked at the floor, his face unreadable.

 

“There are some books in the front room,” Hermione said, finally, “I am going upstairs to pack a few other things and then I’m going to check on the laundry.  Once it’s done, we will begin our trip.  But let’s get one thing straight, Severus Snape. If you have a death wish, you are simply going to have to wait until our time together is at an end to indulge yourself.  Don’t bring me into it.  Then you may decide to do whatever you wish.  When I said that I would protect you, it did not simply mean that I would protect you from a Death Eater.  It includes protecting you from yourself.  Take your time and rest.  I will never expect you to pretend to enjoy your lot in this, but you must swear that you will not become a liability.  Unless it is your intention to find a lifetime of suffering in Azkaban, that is.”

 

Severus shook his head, his shoulders drooping with defeat.

 

“I am sorry,” he replied flatly, “It will not happen again.”

 

“Thank you,” Hermione said, trying her best to sound compassionate, even though she really just wanted to slap him upside the head.  She promised herself that she would punch a pillow once she got back to her bedroom instead.

* * *

 

Closing the door firmly behind her, Hermione growled with frustration.

 

How dare that infuriating man attempt to jeopardize her mission? And after all she’d done to get him out, too!  Sure, he was acting humble  _ now _ , but she couldn’t help but think that the extremity of his self-loathing was a bit much.  Was he pretending in order to gain her sympathy and trust?  She doubted it.  Severus Snape was many things, but he wasn’t very good at hiding his nervousness and anxiety.  Sure, he could shut down completely, but it was easy enough for Hermione to see that act for what it was, probably because she wasn’t a cold, unfeeling psychopath.  Just because he was able to shut everything out, it didn’t mean that he was good at hiding his true feelings about things when he allowed himself to feel them.

 

It was an uneventful hour as they waited for the laundered clothing to properly dry.  If Severus enjoyed the feeling of hot freshly dried cloth against his skin, he didn’t say it.  He didn’t ask for his wand back, either, allowing her to pull him close to her during Side Along Apparition without protest.

* * *

  
  


“Where are we?”

 

Hermione pulled something out of her bag and turned back to look at Severus.

 

“A small village near Bath.  There’s intel that a group of Death Eaters are trying to hide out in a muggle apartment building.”

 

Severus snorted loudly before composing himself again.

 

“I know, I know, the mental image of a bunch of pure-blooded people in robes unlocking the door to a tiny flat and watching the telly is pretty ludicrous,” Hermione said, chuckling slightly as well, “but the reports seem to match a number of complaints to local police, so we are going to investigate.”

 

Severus nodded and held out his hand quietly.  Hermione handed him his wand, and he stared at the silver Limiter at the tip.

 

“What do we do if we catch them?” he asked gruffly.

 

“Leave that part to me,” Hermione said, pulling a small silver ring from her bag.  It was plain and unremarkable, and Severus looked at it confusedly.

 

“We’ll stun them, slip these rings on their fingers and it will portkey them back to a holding cell at the Ministry,” Hermione explained, as though it was a simple matter. “We will keep their wands and attach Limiters to them, returning them to the Ministry once we’ve finished our trek.”

 

“How many?” Severus asked.

 

“What?”   
  


“How many do I have to capture to earn my freedom?”

 

Hermione thought for a moment. 

 

“The Malfoys got a pardon as a show of faith by the Ministry, in exchange for volunteering to pay war reparations for rebuilding damaged buildings and businesses. Many of the others, like Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange died in the final battle,” she said, frowning. “Draco and Lucius Malfoy have been stripped of their Marks by our Cursebreaker team. So have any of the remaining Death Eaters caught and sentenced to Azkaban.  Amycus Carrow is still on the loose, but we know she isn't that smart to begin with, which suggests that she is with at least one accomplice. Her brother was eaten by Acromantulas during the final battle.  Apparently, they don’t discriminate when there’s a meal to be had.”

 

“So you're saying that you don't know.”  It was a statement of fact, not a question. 

 

“I already told you that this is going to be a long mission,” Hermione replied, pulling her hair back and tying it up in a loose ponytail. “Now, it’s time for you to shine.”

 

He looked at her quizzically and she sighed.

 

“Stand there and pull up your sleeve.  The charm doesn’t work properly unless there is nothing between the skin and the wand.”

 

“Another one of yours?” His expression was intrigued as he slowly unbuttoned the cuff of his jacket and the white button-up shirt below, rolling both layers up until his forearm was exposed.

 

Hermione looked around, but there was no one around.  She cast a few quick anti-detection charms around them both just to be sure.  They wouldn’t stay in place for long, but she wouldn’t need that.

 

“Yes,” she said, turning back to him, noticing that he’d stayed exactly where she’d told him to stand. 

 

“You’ve been a busy girl,” he replied, his mouth flickering into a momentary smirk before it disappeared again.

 

Even though she knew it was stupid, Hermione felt herself grow a little flustered at the unexpected praise.  Normally, she was able to accept accolades for her achievements with grace, but when it was...him...it felt different somehow.  Hermione did not like how his proximity was beginning to affect her, but she was also far too stubborn to back down.  This was, after all, her big chance.  She could save the professor from Azkaban.  She could bring the remaining Death Eaters to justice.  She could show that she could stand on her own, not simply as the nerdy, bookish sidekick who tagged along with the real heroes.

 

“Th...thank you,” she stammered slightly, forcing herself to think of the charm.

 

“What does it do?” Severus said softly, looming over Hermione, as she made a series of quick twists with her wand-tip.  Finally, a soft green glow began to seep through the Dark Mark, causing it to squirm slightly, and Severus gritted his teeth in discomfort.

 

“Each of the Marks works like a homing device that can be called to a place or can call others to a place, but it’s generally only one way.  Yours is special because you were considered second-in-command to...er... _ him _ , and because of that, your Mark, for lack of a better word, is the most powerful.  However, we do not want to summon the others to us.  We want to catch them unawares.  Hence, my spell,” Hermione explained as the magic washed over his arm and the Dark Mark went from black to green to a bright blue.  The snake pulled itself free from the skull, grabbed its tail, twisted in a circle around the skull and spun at a dizzying speed.  Severus raised an eyebrow, obviously trying to hide how impressed he was.

 

“How does it work?” he asked, his mouth hanging slightly open in awe as he wiggled his fingers effortlessly. “It normally burns so terribly when it is active...and...now….”

 

“I’m glad that it doesn’t hurt,” Hermione said, smiling up at him as she tucked her wand back into her sleeve, “As for how it works, just focus on finding another Mark.”

 

Severus closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in concentration. His eyes opened wide and he stared down at his arm.

 

“It...tingles…” he said slowly, looking with amazement at the skull, which was now pointed to their right. Its teeth chattered together slowly, and even though they made no sound, it was obvious that it was doing the motion at a steady, repetitive speed.

 

“The skull points towards other Marked individuals like a compass,” Hermione said, a bit too cheerfully, “It chatters faster when you’re close by, but only you should be able to feel the vibration of its teeth.”

 

“And how do you stop it?” Severus asked, suspicious again, “I imagine that having to feel this sensation day and night might become...rather inconvenient.”

 

“I just have to cancel the spell,” Hermione said with a shrug. “In all of my tests, it worked almost perfectly.”

 

“ _ Tests _ ?  _ Almost _ ?!” Severus asked, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Exactly  _ what _ have you been up to while I’ve been hovering between life and death, Granger?”

 

Hermione flinched at the stern tone of voice and the usage of her surname.  She hated how easily he could say something that could make her go from feeling like a completely secure adult to feeling like she was a flustered first year.

 

“I had to test the spells and their effects before I used them on you,” Hermione said, trying to sound nonchalant instead of like an annoying know-it-all.  “First I backwards-engineered the Dark Mark using Draco’s as a model and placed it on an enlarged flobberworm.  Then, when it was nearing completion, I was able to get it working...but…the Ministry didn’t want to wait.  They stripped Draco and his father of their Marks, and I heard talk that there were some Ministry officials who were starting to get worried that I was going to attempt to be the next Dark Lord! It was utterly ludicrous, but there wasn’t much I could do.  So I had to use the flobberworm.”

 

“So, I’m basically a human flobberworm?  How flattering,” Severus grumbled sarcastically.

 

“No! I mean- that’s not what I meant!” Hermione replied, covering her face with exasperation. “Listen, Severus, I know that this may come as a surprise to you, but I think of you rather highly.  Even though I don’t know everything about you, I know that you’ve done many honorable things, even when no one was expecting you to do so. You are a hero, even though you insist on acting contrary.”

 

“Doing the right thing when the right thing must be done isn’t heroic,” Severus said, looking at Hermione fiercely, “It is simply what must be done. A mistake is something one makes on a test- something with no lasting consequences.  Becoming a Death Eater was not a mistake.  It was a  _ crime _ !”

 

“But that’s-”   
  
“Hermione,  _ look at me _ ,” Severus interrupted, his voice growing as intense as his expression, “did you fight the Dark Lord because you wanted a fancy award? Did you do it to be called a hero?”

 

Hermione reeled back as though she’d been slapped. “What?! No! Of course not!”

 

Severus nodded sagely.  “Why do you think that I am any different?  I did terrible things.  I was a bad friend.  My actions got people killed.  I aided in crimes too dark and unspeakable to repeat, many that I still do not know all of the details about, and probably never will.”

 

“But you suffered-”

 

“You have suffered as well, if I am not mistaken.” Severus stared at his shoes as he toed the gravel beneath them. “Suffering entitles me to nothing.  And that is as it should be.  It is because I was convinced that I was deserving of more that I landed myself in that whole bloody mess to begin with.  It is not a mistake that I will ever repeat, not if I can help it.”

 

“You’re not a flobberworm!” Hermione replied huffily, crossing her arms.

 

“ _ Indeed _ . Thank Merlin,” Severus replied, a hint of mirth in his tired eyes.

  
And then, they were both doubled over with laughter, though neither of them seemed to remember when they’d started. Even though it hadn’t really been all  _ that _ funny, it seemed to break down some of the distance between them, and as Hermione met his eyes, she realized that there was something else in his expression besides a weary sense of sadness.  There was a sense of hope there too.

 

Once their laughter quieted down a bit, they continued on, following the Mark’s guidance like a magical compass.  Hermione still giggled a bit as she imagined a giant, scowling, Severus-sized flobberworm, but she did her best to compose herself.

 

Finally, they turned a corner, and the skull on the Mark began to chatter its teeth like crazy. Severus pointed his arm up at a large, abandoned factory and nodded.  

 

They’d found the Death Eater hideout. 

 

Hermione cancelled the spell and they drew their wands, approaching the silent, looming building together.

 

“Stay behind me,” Hermione whispered, her body on full-alert.

 

“What, and let you have all the fun dodging Killing Curses?” Severus whispered back, arching an eyebrow.

 

Hermione snickered at that and shook her head. It was too bad that she was finally beginning to see this remarkably funny and witty side of Severus Snape. 

 

After all, they were just about to poke a nest of Death Eaters, and from Hermione’s experience, that made said Death Eaters a touch... _ murderous _ .


	5. Fight for Your Life [Debt]

 

Hermione’s hand was mere centimeters from the doorknob when she felt a tight grip on her shoulder.  Severus shook his head and placed a finger to his lips. Hermione paused and then nodded in understanding.  He motioned for Hermione to follow him around the side of the building, and she did so, marveling at how silently he moved, like a sentient patch of darkness.

 

The side door hung crookedly on its hinges, its side letting in the outside air.

 

“Tsk, tsk tsk, such dunderheads,” Severus said, his voice quiet and conspiratory as he cast a quick Detection Charm on the area and shook his head with disappointment, “it seems like one of the usual prerequisites for becoming a Death Eater is the lack of a brain to think with, though between you and I, the Dark Lord often...overlooked  _ unsuitable _ applicants...for a price.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help but snicker into her sleeve, remembering some of the absurd stories that Neville had told her about the Carrows...when they weren’t torturing people, that is. Apparently, Alecto Carrow had thought that automobiles were a myth, and Amycus Carrow had insisted that the stars were simply holes in the sky that only showed through at night.  Both had been mystified by the muggle airplanes that sometimes flew high in the sky over the school on their way north. Neither of them was very good at reading anything longer than five letters, often throwing the textbook on the ground and swearing for a good five minutes at it when they got to a part they didn’t understand.

 

It would have been funny if they hadn’t also been forcing seventh years to practice Unforgivables on first years.

 

Hermione tightened her grip on her wand.  Though she didn’t have a Limiter, she despised using excessive force.  

 

“ _ Hermione _ .” Severus was so close to her, his breath was hot against her ear and she had to suppress a gasp.

 

“Yes?” she squeaked, her voice as tiny as he loomed over her.

 

“I shall run in and cast a Lumos Maxima to blind them temporarily.  Your job is to disarm them.  I will do the rest.” He held out his hand. “Now, then, please give the rings to me.”

 

Hermione pulled the bag with the rings in it from the beaded handbag that she kept secured to her waist and poured a handful into his open palm.

 

“Do you think that’s enough?” she whispered, not daring to say anything further.

 

He nodded and tucked them into a pocket on his jacket that seemed to mysteriously appear from nowhere.

 

“Unplottable pockets,” he said gruffly as she looked at his with surprise, “That’s why I asked about your...laundering habits. Now, then, we’ve waited long enough. I think it is high time to show them the welcoming committee.”

 

Hermione turned, readying the spell in her mind, and drew her wand.

  
“I’m ready.”

 

“Very well. On three. One, two...THREE!”

 

With that, Severus took a running start and burst through the door, filling the inside of the room with a bright light that made Hermione flinch, even though she’d covered her eyes with her hand.

 

There were a number of surprised and confused cries before the sound of spells being cast seemed to fill the air, and Hermione realized that she was freezing up with fear.

 

“EXPELLIARMUS!” she bellowed, blasting the spell at the first lumpy figure that ran out the dust-filled doorway.  The wand was pulled from the surprised witch, whose potato-like face was horribly familiar.

 

“YOU!” The witch cried angrily, starting towards Hermione with her hands curled into angry claws.

 

“ _ CARROW _ !” bellowed Severus from behind her, and in a moment, she was flat on her face, her body as rigid as a board.

 

He bent down and checked to make sure her wand was gone before he slipped a ring onto her finger and stood, nodding at Hermione.  He had a handful of other wands clutched in his right hand, and Hermione goggled at how efficiently effective he’d been. 

 

Severus raised an eyebrow as if to say  _ you may want to send the scary Death Eaters away before you gape at me like a fish _ .

 

“ _ P-Portus Ministry _ !” Hermione cried out, turning scarlet with embarrassment at having been caught staring.

 

There were a number of loud pops as the Death Eaters disappeared. Carrow’s rigid body was the last to go, and Hermione found herself letting out a deep sigh of relief once it disappeared.

 

For a moment, Severus seemed to wobble on his feet unsteadily and his eyes fluttered as he took a sharp intake of air, but then it was over and he shook his head, composing himself while Hermione awkwardly pretended that she hadn’t heard a faint moan of pleasure escaping his lips.

 

“Well, then,” Severus said, finally, after a long pause, “I suppose our hard work deserves a rest, yes?”

 

Hermione didn’t reply.

 

“Hermione?” Severus took a step closer to her and touched her shoulder gently.

 

Hermione looked down at her hands.  She hadn’t noticed when she’d started shaking, but now she couldn’t stop herself.  She looked up at Severus, her face full of fear.

 

“I...I...don’t….und...understand,” she stammered, feeling her eyes fill with hot tears.

 

Severus withdrew his hand from her shoulder and stepped back, turning away from her.

 

“You haven’t been back in the field since the war, have you?” he asked quietly, glancing back over his shoulder at her.

 

“N...no...just the lab…” Hermione looked up, trying to wipe away the damnable tears that were blurring her vision. “I...it’s almost like a dream, really.  I accomplished so much on my own in such a short time.  I guess that’s where people like me belong.  In dusty libraries and laboratories, far away from...this.”

 

She gestured with her hand and Severus made a scoffing noise as he turned back and shook his head.

 

“You mean  _ real life _ ?” he replied incredulously. “Hermione,  _ everything _ is real life.  Yes, even time spent in your lab.”

 

Hermione chuckled sadly as she felt the sting of self-loathing recede from her eyes.

 

I guess it just doesn’t feel real, if that makes any sense,” she muttered ruefully, “The war, those horrible months we spent in the woods, Gringotts...none of it.  It feels like a weird dream from someone else’s life.  And yet…”

 

“Let me guess. When you are faced with a dangerous situation that reminds you of your past, everything floods back at once, doesn’t it?” Severus finished, looking at her with the beginning of concern in his expression. 

 

Hermione nodded silently, slipping her wand into her sleeve with a conflicted look.

 

“I can practice all I want, but it’s not the same thing as when it’s  _ real _ ,” she replied, her shoulders slouching with defeat.

 

“I wish I could say that it gets easier, but it doesn’t,” Severus replied, looking at his shoes, “It simply becomes easier to hide your fear.  This is why I want to get this over as soon as possible, for your sake as well as mine.  Though, I must admit that getting the drop on a nest full of Death Eaters on the lam put a bit of a pep in my step. Now then, where do we need to go next?”

 

“Let’s check the Mark first to see if we missed anyone in this vicinity,” Hermione replied with a small smile.  

 

She was finally starting to feel normal again.  There was something about the soft, deep timbre of his voice that seemed to calm her down, and she was eminently grateful that he was there instead of the Aurors that everyone had tried to get Hermione to take with her on her mission.  Sometimes she wondered how indeed she had created the Dark Mark spell and the Limiter, but she reminded herself that the sleep deprivation and blur of action after the war had ended were simply tainting her memories.  She kept remembering a smile, but she couldn’t remember whose it was.  It made her uneasy, not knowing such a simple thing, but she resolved that she would stop dwelling on such an inconsequential thing.

 

“Hermione? What is wrong?” Severus was staring at her and she wrinkled her nose with embarrassment.

 

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “I just spaced out for a moment there.  You can pull back your sleeve when you’re ready.”

 

Severus turned up his sleeve as he had before, and they both blinked rapidly in shock, as though trying to make sense of what they were looking at. 

 

The Mark, which had only recently looked the same as ever, now had seven snakes curling around the skull, each squirming under the skin of his forearm like thick, black, scaly worms.

 

Severus paled, and when he looked up at Hermione, his eyes were full of alarm and despair.

 

“What is wrong with me?” he whispered as Hermione tentatively touched one of the snakes that was wrapping around the back of his forearm like a bracelet.  He hissed with pleasure and his cheeks flushed a deep scarlet as he flinched away from her touch. “N...no… _ please _ !”

 

“I’m sorry, Severus,” Hermione gasped, her heart racing as she watched the snakes writhe and strike, her mind racing as she met his eyes with an expression of horror. “ _I_ _don’t_ _know_.”


	6. A Gift that is Not [Quite] a Gift and a Woman who is Not [Quite] a Woman

 

Not many knew of the sprawling catacombs beneath the Ministry of Magic, but there were some who knew of the Old Places where ancient magic had been cast many centuries ago.  But there were still those who remembered.

 

And those who were forced to make it their refuge.

 

“‘Ello, Mistress, I done like ya told me. Them Death Eater types, or rather, what’s left of ‘em, is locked up good! Now, I wan’ whatcha promised me!” 

 

The man bowed somewhat sloppily in the half-shadow of the large underground chamber, which was only barely lit by a few sparsely placed torches. He wasn’t an ugly man, but he wasn’t classically handsome, either.  Thomas Turntwice was the sort of man whose face would not be remembered in a crowd, his features nearly indistinguishable from any other general person out in public.  In short, he was perfect for sneaking into places where he wouldn’t be remembered.  He shook his head and his hair seemed to stream out from his head like silk.  His facial features flickered in the torchlight momentarily, before his features seemed to solidify once more.  His hair was longer now, almost silver in the torchlight.  His eyes were wider, more youthful looking, as was his button nose, which made him look like a young noble.

 

The flickering light seemed to accent his wiry frame, and it was obvious that he hadn’t had much to eat in a  _ very _ long time. His robes hung loose on his body; one of his sleeves hanging flat at his side.  Being a metamorphmagus was a rare talent that could cover the worst scars, but there were some things that could not be shaped once they were lost. 

 

“Well done, my sweet.  And now, for your reward,” came the reply from the shadows.

 

A flash of silver shone in the meager light, and the man’s eyes widened with desire and excitement.  A beautiful, delicate-looking silver arm that looked almost exactly like the limb it was supposed to represent hovered in the air. Thomas seemed to hesitate momentarily, his good arm instinctively clutching the stump that hung down from his other shoulder.

 

“How…?”

 

“As you can see, I have made a number of...improvements to the original design. My Master has given me the ability to do so, and I do it gladly. Touch it, Thomas. Touch it and claim it as your own.”

 

Thomas gulped loudly, as though he just realized that he was standing in the darkness with a strange magical object before him.

 

“Why do you hesitate? Do you worry that I am an untrustworthy Mistress? Look upon my face and know that there is nothing to fear.” The owner of the voice came closer to him, the outline of her body sliding out from the darkness as though she were gliding on air. 

 

She was tall, almost unearthly so, her body covered in a long, flowing robe that touched the floor and ended in a long trane, almost as though she was practicing for her wedding.  However, the resemblance ended there.  Even in the dim light of the torches, it was obvious that her robes were a dark fuscia- a scandalous color for one’s wedding day, and then there was the odd shape of her square, face, which gave one the impression that she was about to flick out an unnaturally long tongue to snag a fly.  Her hair was long and woven into two plaits, each end fastened with a somewhat childlike hair-tie that featured small pink spheres.  A clip with a kitten attached to it adorned the left side of her head.  A name tag was pinned to her robes, the job description (“Head of Custodial Services and Toilet Scrubbing, Ministry of Magic”) crossed out with pink sparkly ink and changed to read “True Minister of Magic.”

 

It would have seemed almost silly in the light of day, but in the darkness of the tunnels below the Ministry, Thomas had never felt further from laughing in his life.

 

Finally, after watching her staring down at him unnervingly for several silent minutes (a few of them spent wondering,  with a sense of half-hysterical terror, if she even actually  _ blinked) _ , Thomas took the silver arm under his good arm and pulled his sleeve back, exposing the scarred stump of an arm he had left hanging from the socket of his shoulder.

 

“Gently, now, put it into place, and the process should only take mere moments.” The tall woman was nearly panting with anticipation, and Thomas could have sworn that the trane swished back and forth on its own in the shadow like a cat’s tail.

 

He had the silver arm in his good hand, now, looking it over.  The joints moved as smoothly as his own flesh-and-blood arm, and he knew at a glance that it was no simple metal enchantment.  No, this was a work of beauty and functionality seamlessly woven together.  With a determined look on his face, Thomas pushed his stumpy arm into the silver socket, trying to ignore the alarm bells going off in his head, the ones telling him that all of this was very wrong.  He knew that no matter what happened, at least he’d finally feel somewhat whole again after those damned Death Eaters had blasted his dominant arm off and he’d been let go from his job because his assignment had required that he take notes at a certain pace, which was impossible for someone who’d recently lost their dominant hand.  He’d only been able to get the lowest level custodial job down in the forgotten catacombs at a fraction of his former salary.  

 

_ She’d _ been the only one to listen to him, to offer him the chance to have his revenge.  

 

The Death Eaters appeared in the cages, just as she’d said, all stunned and wandless.  It hadn’t taken long for him to blast their evil carcasses into tiny, bloody bits, which had dulled the ghost pain in his missing arm.  He’d vomited terribly on the stone floor when it was done, especially when that last Death Eater had regained enough mobility to throw her hands up and cry “Mercy! Mercy, please!” But then again, it couldn’t be helped.  The stench of death was always terrible.

 

Besides, that Death Eater bitch should have known what she was getting into when she joined up.  Bloody murderers, the lot of them.

 

With a cry of glee, he clasped the silver hand before his face, marveling at how easily and delicately he could move it.

 

“Crush this, my sweet,” purred the tall woman, conjuring up a clay ball and tossing it to him.

 

He smashed into dust in seconds, but the silver hand remained as pristine as it had before.

 

“Thank you, Mistress!” he cried, happy tears falling down his cheeks as she grinned slyly at him, “I shall never forget this day!”

 

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” she demurred, flicking her wand in a curious shape.

 

It was then that a hot, white pain shot up his shoulder and into his chest.  Thomas staggered back, gasping, his face rippling like the surface of a lake in a storm as features rose and fell in moments.  One eye brown, one blue, skin going dark and pale at the same time, he gasped and panted, falling to his knees.  His hair was short, then long, then gone altogether, the colors cascading across his scalp like a rainbow.  

 

A sibilant hiss escaped the woman’s lips and she twisted her wand cruelly like a dagger being twisted under a murder victim’s ribs.

 

Runic shapes appeared in blood red up the length of the silver arm, light twisting underneath it in a strange, hypnotic manner.

 

Thomas tried to scream, but a horrible gurgle was all that escaped his lips before he collapsed, face-down, onto the dusty stone floor.  

 

And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over.  

* * *

  
  


“Hem hem,” Dolores Umbridge said, clearing her throat with a nonchalant glance at the body on the floor, “Now that all of that  _ unpleasantness _ is done with...I command you rise, my servant!  For it is you who shall do my bidding for our glorious Master’s return...Peter...Pettigrew!”

 

The body rose to its feet like a marionette whose puppeteer had pulled it abruptly from its resting space.  A strange, frightened look and a feral ferocity rose on his face- an expression that made Umbridge grin cruelly. It was obvious that she was satisfied with her efforts.

 

The man patted his body, looking at the silver arm as though he expected it to be there, his fingers lingering on his face as he looked down at the thin body and the voluminous robes with shock. Slowly, an almost insane look of glee rose upon his face before he seemed to realize that he was in the presence of the woman who had brought him to this place.  He bowed low, looking up with a glint of fervent servility in his eyes.

 

“How may I be of service, oh great Mistress of Mistresses?” He groveled, his voice shaking with glee.

 

Umbridge grinned wider and wider until her face nearly seemed inhuman.  The sight of this quivering, submissive man seemed to awaken a strange sense of fervor of her own.

 

“I have brought you back from beyond the Veil, as your arm tied your spirit to this plane,” Umbridge said smugly, obviously very pleased with herself but also not elaborating on the process any further, “Your new body has a few extra...perks, namely the ability to change your face and hair to whatever you desire.  You may, of course, have to practice a bit before you become well-acquainted with doing it well.”

 

Before she could move, Peter had thrown himself down to the ground and was kissing the hem of her robes, his hands grasping at the fuchsia cloth like a drowning man holding onto a piece of driftwood as he cried and thanked her for saving him from the cruelty of death.

 

Umbridge bent down and stroked his hair, which was going mousy brown, in an almost maternal fashion.  She could feel it moving under her hand, going short as his face remembered how he’d looked before he’d been cruelly killed by the very silver hand he was using to hold onto Umbridge like a sobbing child.

 

“There, there, my sweet,” she said, her sickly sweet smile wide and toad-like in her square jaw as she comforted him. “I shall not let those mean old Order members hurt you.  You’ll stay here with me, and we will redouble our efforts to achieve our grand goals.”

 

Sniffling, Peter looked up at her, his face childlike now, which caused Umbridge to shudder with revulsion.  She’d never liked children, not really. But with his abilities and his willingness to please, it did make her wonder just how far he would go to satisfy her.

 

Peter seemed to see that his Mistress was displeased, and his face grew more mature and nondescript, like one of those posters with a model on it.  Umbridge smiled, her teeth glowing golden in the torchlight.

 

“See?” she laughed. “You are getting it already!” 

 

“Mistress! I shall serve you eternally! No one shall be above you in my esteem! I will do anything for you! Anything at all!” Peter seemed to have worked himself into a slavish mood as Umbridge watched and preened with obvious pride.  The only way he could be more submissive would be if he laid on the ground and offered her his throat.

 

“Is that  _ so _ ?” she croaked, moistening her lips, “You would do  _ anything _ ?”

 

He nodded fervently, looking up at her as though waiting for her orders with bated breath.

 

“I know that I appear somewhat...unconventional,” Umbridge started uncomfortable, “but if you can lift my robes and see what is underneath and still swear the same, I shall accept you.”

 

Peter grasped her robes, pulling them up with ease, his eyes going wide as he grinned and assured her that he’d never seen such beauty in all of his time.

 

Umbridge grinned, enjoying the feeling of Peter’s lips on the great serpentine tail that stretched out behind her.  Her tongue flicked out of her lips more slowly, its long, forked length scenting the air.  The pheromones that Peter was giving off were more than enough to prove that his ardor, at least, was true.

 

“Come, then, my servant,” she said, turning as he smoothed her robes down over her scaled lower half with reverence, “We shall retire to my chambers, and I shall tell you of our plans.”

 

“And what plans might those be?” Peter asked excitedly, following alongside her like an eager puppy.

 

“Why, to bring back our Lord,” Umbridge replied, grinning malevolently, “For it is only through Him that we shall rise above our inferiors and live forever!”

  
  



	7. Coils Tighten

 

“Stay away from me, Hermione!” Severus hissed, backing away, his eyes wild and his thin lips drawn back in a horrible snarl as he pulled his sleeve back over the writhing Mark. “You do not know me, what I truly am inside. A monster…”

 

Hermione shook her head. “I refuse to believe that’s all you are, Severus.  You paid the ultimate price-”

 

“I _tried_ to pay the ultimate price, but _you_ _had to revive me_!” Severus shot back angrily, “Why would you do such a terrible thing?  Why would you make me continue on, knowing that the only thing ahead of me would be more servitude? Do you think that the Ministry will allow me to go free after I catch all of their precious Death Eaters? Do you think that they’re just going to let me stroll out onto the street a free man? They’ll find a way to use me or scapegoat me. Someone _always_ does.”

 

“I can’t believe that you would still think so poorly of me,” Hermione replied, sounding genuinely hurt.

 

Severus started, his fierce expression softening slightly as he shook his head.

 

“I doubt that you’re lying,” he replied dejectedly, “but I do think that you’re overly naive as to exactly what the Ministry is known for doing, Kingsley Shacklebolt or no Kingsly Shacklebolt.”

 

Hermione frowned, her mind seemingly elsewhere, and she looked at him sadly.

 

“You’re right,” she said, finally, her voice flat.

 

“ _ What _ ?” Severus stared at her.

 

“I said, you’re right.  I was a stupid girl to think that the Ministry would simply allow you to cut and run once you’d been brought to heel, at least as far as they’re concerned. I can’t believe that I was this stupid!”

 

Hermione squatted down into a semi-sitting position, staying balanced on her toes and massaged her temples gently as she muttered angrily to herself. Finally, she rose on her feet again, seemingly confused as to why Severus was still standing in the same spot and staring at her as though she’d grown a second head.

 

“I was doing some calculations,” she explained, even though it didn’t really explain anything at all.

 

“... _ And _ ?” Severus was beginning to get annoyed.  It was one thing to have to listen to Dumbledore and his cryptic musings in silence, but to listen to Hermione Granger, of all people, attempting to withhold information when she normally went on at insufferable length, was unbearable.

 

“The number of snakes on your arm- can you count them for me? Don’t worry. I promise that I will not touch them again.”

 

Severus turned around, ashamed that Hermione might see them again, and did a quick count, noticing with some relief that the snakes had stopped moving, even though they were still staining most of his forearm.

 

“There are six snakes,” he replied, turning back to face her with a skeptical look on his face. “What is your point?”

 

“My point,” Hermione said, pulling the bag of rings from her robes and pouring them into her hand, “is that there is a set number of these Portkeys. I was given seventeen. There are only eleven left.”

 

Comprehension dawned upon his face and he frowned deeply.

 

“You are saying that they know how many we are still missing.”  It was a statement, not a question.

 

“There are a number of Death Eaters in Azkaban, not to mention Draco and Lucius, who had their Marks removed over a period of several months by a new experimental treatment at St. Mungo’s, but I think that somehow, this number is significant, even though I can’t tell you why.”  Hermione looked up at Severus, her eyes compassionate.

 

“Stop that!” He cried sharply.

 

“What?” Hermione replied confusedly.

 

“ _ That _ look! That...insufferable expression you always get on your face whenever you think that I’ve done or said something to make you feel sorry for me!” Severus growled bitterly, “I am not special.  I am tired of being treated like a bloody victim when you apparently don’t know how to sniff out a plot when it’s right under your nose!”

 

Hermione blanched and her eyebrows furrowed with irritation.

 

“Oh, I see,” she replied coldly, “I suppose you know what you’re talking about, seeing that your nose could probably put someone’s eye out.  No wonder no one gets close to you.  It’s for their own safety!”

 

“Oh, a nose insult! How utterly  _ original _ !” Severus retorted, “I am certain that I have  _ never _ heard that one before! Shall I point out your physical flaws as well, or are you finished playing  _ State the Obvious in an Insulting Manner _ ?”

 

Hermione turned, gritting her teeth together with exasperation, and threw her hands up in the air.

 

“Why did I think that this was a good idea?” she cried exasperatedly.

 

“Don’t ask me, I had nothing to do with it!” Severus replied darkly.

 

“That was supposed to be a rhetorical question!  I don’t need to be told by you, of all people, that I am not good company.  I will have you know that I have plenty of friends!” Hermione shot back, her cheeks pink with irritation.

 

“Charming,” Severus mused sardonically, “I can see why so many men are lining up to spend time with you.  What was it you said earlier?  Weasley keeps conveniently having to work late at his brother’s store whenever you two have dinner plans?”

 

Hermione went scarlet.  “I didn’t even think you were listening when I was talking about that! I...he...it’s just…”

 

“He can’t wait to be away from you.  You suffocate him.  He’s probably falling into the arms of some beautiful girl as we speak.” Severus sneered, looking almost like a cartoonish caricature of a villain.

 

Hermione opened her mouth to shout at him, but then she seemed to realize something and let out a deep breath, shaking her head from side to side slowly.

 

“You know,” she said, “I almost believed you until you started bringing Ron into it,” Hermione replied, “You see,  _ I _ actually called it off, not him. We still have standing dinner dates that he ends up cancelling more often than not, but it’s not because he’s trying to get out of a relationship with me.  It’s because, strange as it sounds, we’re both moving on with our lives.”

 

“That’s the thing, Hermione,” Severus replied, his sneer now more of a grimace, “I have never moved on with my life.  As soon as Lily was murdered, I became frozen in time.  I only existed for one thing- to keep her son alive, and I am still not certain that I did much good to that end, all things considered. Even now, I keep trying to think of what kind of purpose my survival serves, and I keep coming up with nothing.  Why should I survive? To become the Ministry’s errand boy?  To be sent to Azkaban to pad some politician’s resume?  No.  I’d rather die.”

 

“Is this truly how you feel?” Hermione looked stricken.  

“Why do you think that I tried to invoke the Life Debt?” Severus replied miserably, “but there too, I was too cowardly to do what was required of me…”

 

Hermione took a step forward and placed her hand on his shoulder.  Though Severus flinched slightly, he didn’t pull away from her touch. 

 

“Not wanting to injure or kill someone else is not a weakness. I will never think of you as a coward for that, Severus,” Hermione said softly, “even if that only makes one of us. And even though your arm worries me and I absolutely promise that we will do whatever it takes to find out what has happened and how to reverse it, you must admit that we are getting dangerous people off of the streets.”

 

With a quiet moan of despair, Severus let his head fall forward until his nose was resting against Hermione’s shoulder.  It wasn’t anything resembling intimate contact, but Hermione sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of his breath in her ear and the spicy, herbal scent of his hair.

 

“You intend to continue with our objective, don’t you?” he said finally, his voice muffled from where his face was pressed into her robes. “You want to capture the rest of them and see what happens.”

 

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Severus! I know that you don’t want to-”

 

“Don’t  _ want _ to? Don’t  _ want _ to?!” Severus exclaimed sharply, lifting his head, his furious face inches from hers, “I am terrified at what is happening to me and the very person who I cannot refuse upon pain of  _ death _ is telling me that the problem here is I don’t  _ want _ to do a thing that I am being  _ forced _ to do?!  What I  _ want _ has nothing to do with it! Not with the Dark Lord, not with Dumbledore and not with  _ you _ and your infernal Ministry goons!”

 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Hermione hissed back, her lips pulling back in a snarl. “I was about to say that I know that  _ you _ don’t want to do  _ anything. _ It is, after all something that you have made a point to make abundantly clear every five minutes! If you want to say terrible things about me, fine! Let’s look at how pathetic  _ you _ are at this minute! First off, you can’t seem to imagine a world in which you’re not under someone’s control or command.  Secondly, even though you complain endlessly about being under my direction, you seem almost keen on the fact that you don’t have to make any decisions for yourself.  Thirdly, you apparently cannot think further than the tip of your nose for any reason to stay alive other than some long dead childhood friend! And every time something happens to you that is the least bit negative, you whinge on and on wishing you were dead! You devalue your life so much that your objection to my instructions seems almost comical in nature, like a tantrum being thrown by a petulant teenager to make you feel like you have some control over the situation!  I could go on, but I’m pretty certain that I’m just wasting my breath at this point!”

 

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, turning away from Severus, who was frozen with a look of shock on his face at having been lectured.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words froze in his mouth as she turned, her eyes filled with cold fury.

 

“You know what, Severus Snape? I don’t care about the Life Debt! I’ll simply tattoo myself with the Mark and find the rest myself!  I’ll tell them that you escaped in the chaos, so you can get a head start in avoiding the inevitable Auror squad that will follow you. So  _ go _ . You’re free! Now you can do whatever the hell you want to do! Or simply stand by and do nothing at all while complaining about everyone else!  After all, that seems to be your  _ specialty _ !” 

 

With an angry growl, Hermione pulled out her wand and began to stalk away from him, looking for a clear place to Apparate.

 

“No...please…”  His voice was barely a whisper, but she stopped and turned her head back to look at him from where he had run to her on unsteady legs and was clutching at the back of her robes, down on his knees on the dusty road. “It...hurts…anger...hate...inside...please...help…”

 

And, with that, his grip on her weakened and he collapsed on his side.

 

With a conflicted expression on her face, Hermione knelt down and pulled him up, which was harder due to his full unconscious weight, but she managed.  Holding him tightly against her, she looked around, and, seeing nobody, decided it was fairly safe to Apparate, though she would have prefered to go back to the field where they’d arrived.

 

“You infuriating, stubborn man!” she hissed at him, knowing that he would not hear her. “Instead of riling me up, you could have told me how they were affecting you!”

 

Hermione took great care to avoid the arm with the Mark on it and focused on her destination, Apparating away moments later with a plan already beginning to form in the back of her mind.

 


	8. Primal Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Uhhh, sexytimes just kinda ambushed me, so...uh...here you go. ;)

 

Hermione knew instantly that it was going to be a bumpy landing. A branch under her foot caused her to roll one of her ankles and she fell to the ground on one knee gasping for breath. Severus was still with her, thankfully, and neither of them appeared to have been Splinched. He sagged heavily into her side, his breathing shallow through gritted teeth as he moaned about the voices, begging her to make them stop. A quick glance around her told her exactly where they were, and she groaned inwardly.

  
The forest of Dean.

 

Ignoring her aching ankle, Hermione set him down gently on the forest floor and instinctively began to cast protective wards, resolving to make the most of a bad situation.  Severus rolled from side to side feverishly, his hand clutching his Marked arm, but he did not attempt to stand up.  Hermione was glad that she’d brought her beaded handbag, and quickly set up the tent, which she’d updated a bit when she was preparing for the Death Eater hunting trip earlier that week.  She’d woven some spellwork into the fabric of the tent to make it appear Disillusioned from the outside, even without the strong protective wards around it.  Hermione had been caught by Death Eaters before.  She resolved never to allow it to happen again.

 

Conjuring up a stretcher, she levitated Severus onto it and used magic to get him into the tent, limping horribly behind him.  Her ankle was starting to scream with pain by this point, and so she stumbled into a chair, summoning some salve and a strip of linen cloth from her bag.  Her ankle attended to, Hermione gingerly hobbled over to the stretcher, which she’d left floating in the open kitchen area.

 

Severus seemed feverish by this point, droplets of sweat beading around his temples.

 

Hermione touched his forehead to check and he flinched slightly.

 

“No…” he moaned, his eyes glazing over as they stared far away, “Must…ahhhh...”

 

Hermione frowned.  His forehead was not overly warm, but he looked as though he was burning up.  She conjured up a washcloth and wet it down in the sink, folding it expertly and placing it on his forehead, which seemed to calm him slightly.

 

Strings of hair hung over his face and she pulled it gently back behind his ears.  He moaned more softly at her touch, pressing his cheek against her palm like a cat.  When she looked down and met his gaze, he could see that they were half open and staring unblinkingly at her.  His breathing, which had been labored only moments ago, was nearly unnoticeable now. She knew it should have been unnerving, but there was something about how he looked at her that made her blush a deep crimson.

 

“Hermione,” he rasped softly, raising his hand and pressing his finger against her lips. “Please...come to me…”

 

Her pulse quickened and she knew that she should pull away and let him rest, but she was transfixed by his sudden vulnerability.  A mad thought came to her from nowhere and before she knew what she was doing, she had leaned down and pressed a kiss against his cheek.  He hissed with pleasure and then winced, grabbing his Marked arm.

 

Hermione stared.  The snakes, which had been writhing around under his skin had gone still, their coils only moving slightly, as though they were growing sleepy. 

 

“Severus,” Hermione said softly, waiting for the pain to subside.

 

He looked at her, then, and his eyes were full of a burning sense of hope.

 

“Please, Hermione,” he rasped, “Again...please…”

 

Hermione kissed him on the cheek again, and he gasped at the sensation.  She kissed him on the tip of his nose and his mouth hung open as he panted with pleasure and pain. She glanced down and could see that her touch seemed to push away the dark magic that had filled his brain with feverish, torturous sensation.  It hadn’t seemed to do much before, not when they were fighting, or when she’d touched him while his sleeves were still rolled down.  She kissed his nose again, more tenderly this time.  His arm tensed, but she could see the coils slowing more and more on the Mark, and she was so glad for it that she moved down under his nose kissed him right on the lips.

 

His eyes went wide with surprise as she pressed her lips against his, then slowly, a dawning sense of abandon filled her with a humming urgency that she couldn't control.  

 

Tentatively, she traced his lips gently with the tip of her tongue, and he moaned into her mouth, allowing her access. As though she was hearing it from far away, she heard a soft cry of enjoyment escape her lips as she savored the taste of him.  For some reason, his mouth had an earthy, meaty flavor with a hint of sweetness.  It was addictive, and she explored his mouth eagerly with her tongue, savoring the sensation of the tip of his tongue tentatively rubbing gently against hers.  Before she knew it, he’d gingerly pressed his tongue into her mouth as well, and she found herself momentarily stunned at the idea that she was properly snogging Severus Snape before her mind went blank with the pleasure of what they were doing together and she realized she didn’t give a single damn  _ what _ they were doing as long as they could continue doing it.

 

She couldn’t remember when she’d climbed on top of him. The dull ache in her ankle was merely a momentary distraction before it faded away and all that was left was  _ him _ . There was a point when she was undoing the buttons on his jacket and he was pulling her robes over her head when they both looked at each other in a moment of clear-headed shock, but then his lips were on hers again and she pulled back only enough so that he could pull the soft cloth up over her head, leaving her in only a simple silky bra and a pair of sensible cotton knickers. His shirt was open, leaving only a thin ribbed tank top underneath and she’d slipped it halfway off his shoulders, leaving him with a dazed, well-kissed look on his face. Filled with a sense of courage she couldn’t explain, Hermione began fumbling with his trousers when he suddenly went deathly still.

 

“Are...you...sure?” He gasped, his breath catching with exertion as he tried to hold back the emotional and physical overload that was coursing through his body.

 

Hermione bent down on top of him and kissed him softly on the lips, her mind in a daze.

 

“Yes... _ please _ …I can hardly bear it...” she whispered into his mouth, and they were both lost to their desires.

 

His hands were rough and unpracticed as they grasped at her, but Hermione was filled with a sense of rising urgency to feel his fingers pressing against her breasts and tracing the sides of her waist until they were resting firmly on her hips. Hermione tried to kneel, only to find the position awkward on the transfigured floating cot.  With an annoyed flick of her wand, she lowered the stretcher to the ground and cast a Cushioning Charm on it.

 

“There,  _ much _ better,” she purred softly, tossing her wand on top of the pile of clothing that had gathered on the floor beside them.

 

Severus sat up slightly and allowed Hermione to pull his jacket and white button-up shirt off arm by arm, then pulled his tank top up over his head and tossed it aside in one fluid motion, shaking his head back and forth until his hair was falling forward and framing his face.  His dark eyes were completely focused on her as though he were afraid she would disappear if he looked away for even a moment.  Noticing that Hermione was struggling with her ankle and her knickers, he made a strange motion with his fingers and wrist, and Hermione’s eyes widened with surprise and froze as she realized what had happened.  

 

He’d wandlessly removed every last shred of clothing on both of their bodies.

 

She met his eyes and bit her lip hard.  The unbridled expression of desire she found there filled her with fire.  She could feel the heat rising all the way from her core to the back of her throat until she began to pant feverishly.  Tendrils of energy pulsed outward from deep within her chest, pressing against his body until his magic flared and met hers, licking against her skin like a gentle flame. 

 

“Beautiful,” he breathed, his fingers tracing down the center of her chest between her breasts until he reached her navel.  Hermione had always been somewhat uncomfortable with the small pouch of a belly that lay stubbornly under her belly button, an irritating addition that had coincided with all of the award feasts and celebratory meals after the Final Battle was over and her long months of starvation had finally ended.  Perhaps her insecurities should have made her pause, but there was something about how Severus touched her body that made every single one of her anxieties fall away.  She traced the scars on his chest as he mirrored her motions with the scars on her own body- places where they’d both been torn by those trying to break them.

 

When he reached up to place his fingers against her lips, she saw the darkness on his arm from the corner of her eye, but as she turned her head to look at it more closely, the snakes were as stationary as a Muggle tattoo and the color seemed lighter.

 

She pressed her hand over his and closed her eyes in concentration as she began to grind her hips gently against him.  His erect cock rubbed against the apex of her thighs and she could feel herself growing wetter and wetter by the moment at the soft friction between their bodies.

 

“Hermione.” His voice was like a prayer, reverent and deep.  “Please…”

 

Hermione let out a heavy breath and leaned down, meeting his lips with hers.  Raising onto her knees, she rubbed against the length of his cock, savoring the sensation of his velvetine erection against the heat and wetness of her labia and the sensitive bud of her clitoris.

As she arched her arse into the air, she could feel the head of his cock angling upward gently against her, catching slightly inside of her as she rubbed against him more insistently.

 

She shivered and moaned into his mouth at the pleasure of it.

 

Slowly but surely, she rubbed and rubbed at a steady pace until she could feel the head of his cock pressing into the folds of her labia, slipping deeper and deeper inside of her at an agonizingly slow pace.  The sensation of growing full inside of her was amazing.  Though Hermione wasn’t a virgin, and she’d ruptured her hymen while horseback riding long before her first awkward time with Ron, it was pretty obvious that Severus was very well endowed when it came to girth, though his length was only slightly longer than average...at least, the know-it-all part of Hermione’s brain was fairly certain of this from the book she’d read on the subject.  Still, it was hard to focus on remembering details from a dry old book when she was actively savoring the details of the real thing.

 

Severus brought his knees up gently to gain some leverage and let out a soft cry as he bottomed out inside of her.  Hermione flinched instinctively, expecting it to hurt.  Ron had hurt her and he’d been quite a lot less girthy.  Her eyes went wide as his hips twitched under her.  It didn’t hurt at all...in fact, it felt amazing.  It was as though her body had been made to fit his cock, and she clenched her vaginal muscles around him unconsciously, the soft pulse of her inner movement causing Severus to throw his head back and emit a sharp cry of pleasure.

 

Emboldened, Hermione began to slide back and forth on top of him, savoring the unintelligible stream of noises Severus was making as he stared up at her with a look of reverence plastered on his face.  Her magic flowed over him in thick, amber waves as she rubbed against him and pushed him deeper and deeper inside of her.  

 

She kissed him again and realized that she’d felt this way before.  There was a protectiveness and a sense of affection there, one that she’d always kept in her heart and tried to deny. It had been the reason she’d gone back to see him, even though she’d been certain that he was already long dead. The Life Debt had been formed from more than just a begrudging drive to save his life, or it would never have worked to bring him back from the brink of death.  She knew that now.  Even now, at the height of their shared vulnerability, it filled her with a sense of rightness, of knowing that it was an extension of the very sentiment that allowed his life to be spared in the first place.

 

But still, in the depths of her heart, Hermione still worried that, sex aside, Severus would never see it that way.

 

After all, she’d lied to him back at St. Mungo’s. She’d lied when she’d told him that she’d gone back for his corpse to honor his role as a spy.  She’d gone back long before she knew what he’d done, what part he’d had to play in the war.  She’d gone back because…

 

“I... _ love _ you…” She shivered, the words escaping her lips before she realized she’d not simply thought them. 

 

Severus stiffened underneath her and Hermione’s eyes went wide as she realized what she’d said, but as she drew her hands to cover her mouth, her body began to fill with a sense of urgency and pleasure until it was demanding for release. She began to move more quickly, clamping down and milking his cock with the steady undulation of muscle and lubrication.

 

“We should...I... _ FUCK _ !” Severus bit his lip as he let out a shout of surprise, his hands going immediately to Hermione’s hips and pulling them firmly down and holding her as he rode out the waves of orgasm.  

 

Hermione’s eyes rolled back in her head instinctively at the forcefulness of his grip and found herself in the throes of her own climax as well.  Warmth and wetness filled her and she vaguely registered the fact that he’d ejaculated deep inside of her, but almost as quickly, a sense of calm and sleepiness filled her head, and she collapsed on his chest, feeling his arms encircle her in a tight hug as he kissed her on the top of her head and made tiny gasping noises into her hair.

 

Severus stretched out his Marked arm and stared at it, prompting Hermione to do the same.

 

“It looks weaker now, doesn’t it?” She whispered dazedly, her eyelids growing heavy.

 

“Indeed,” Severus replied, frowning, “but why?”

 

“I told you that I’d protect you, Severus,” Hermione continued, feeling her eyes drooping until they were almost closed. “I just...I wanted to save you...because I…”

 

Tiredness took over and Hermione began to breathe more evenly as she moved into a light sleep, her mind at ease with the feeling of his heart beating against her and his arm around her protectively.  It didn’t hurt that he was still halfway inside of her even though it was obviously that he was very, very spent.

 

“I don’t deserve to be loved,” Severus whispered into her hair, wincing slightly when her arms tightened around him, “So why…?”

 

Something in him seemed to relax as Hermione nuzzled against his chest, and he said nothing more, his eyes closing slowly as he joined Hermione in sleep.


	9. Chapter 9: What Was, What Is, and What Never Will Be

**** Severus opened his eyes and immediately groaned with irritation. 

 

It wasn't difficult to come to the conclusion that he was dreaming. Even if the giant floating koi playfully chasing an inflatable beach ball above his head wasn't an immediate tip-off, there was no way that he'd be standing within five feet of the horrid woman across from him without hexing her into oblivion. 

 

“Hello, Severus,” Dolores Umbridge said, her voice trembling in a slight sibilant hiss as she spoke his name. “You’re looking well.”

 

“Hmph,” Severus replied, looking at her with suspicion. “No thanks to you.”

 

The woman smiled, her lips pulled back in a sickly-sweet expression as she straightened the pink bow atop her head.  “Oh, don’t play games, Professor. We know that you know exactly what is happening.  _ He _ told you, didn’t he?”

 

Severus stared at her disdainfully. “This is a dream...well, that’s not quite true...it’s obviously a  _ nightmare _ since you’re here,” he said, as though she was the most boring thing he’d ever seen before in his life. “As for who you mean by  _ he _ , it is anyone’s guess.”

 

Umbridge seemed to grow taller, then, and it was only belatedly that Severus realized that her torso seemed to be abnormally tall. “You are  _ mine _ , Snape. Act like the good little servant you are and you shall be rewarded.  Try to run, and I will make you regret it.”

 

She waved her wand, grinning all the while like a cat that had eaten the canary. Severus felt a stabbing pain curling around his arm and he pulled back his sleeve in protest.  The snakes were black as pitch and writhing up his arm like the heads ot a hydra. They coiled and twisted tightly, and it felt as though a real snake were cutting the circulation off in his arm. As they traveled up his shoulder, he could feel more and more of his body growing numb and heavy.

 

“I’m sorry to inform you, but when they get to your neck, you  _ die _ ,” Umbridge said, sounding anything but sorry.  “Only my power can keep them from ending you, so keep collecting Death Eaters like a good little servant, or you will suffer.”

 

“I don’t care,” Severus said, his voice deadpan. “Kill me if you must. I wasn’t meant to live anyway.”

 

This seemed to enrage Umbridge, who pulled out something small and metal that she consulted for a moment before her face grew smug again.

 

“Well,” she sniffed, “if you don’t care about yourself, I’m sure I can appeal to your sense of chivalry.”

 

“And what sense is that?” Severus asked bluntly, “The one where I killed the Headmaster or the one where I sent students off to be tortured by Death Eaters?  You tell me.”

 

“Oh pish posh,” Umbridge said, rolling her eyes, “you know that there are others who have grown close to you...a certain Gryffindor bitch, perhaps?”

 

Severus stepped back, his jaw tightening with fury.

 

“She...is unimportant,” he muttered.

 

“Are you trying to convince  _ me _ of that or are you simply trying to convince yourself?” Umbridge licked her lips and loomed over him, her height increasing by leaps and bounds until she was nearly dragon-sized. “No matter. The girl cares for you, and she’ll put the Mark on her arm instead if you don’t help her.  You do know what that will do to her, right? It will taint her, just like it tainted you.  Though, to be fair, her blood is already dirty enough.”

 

“Leave her alone,” Severus snarled, “Take me if you must, but she...doesn’t deserve your ire.”

 

“Oh? Somehow that doesn’t seem quite right, seeing as she is  _ directly _ responsible for my phobia of anything with hooves,” Umbridge said venomously.

  
If Severus didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he saw a forked tongue flick out of her mouth for an instant. Well, it  _ was _ a dream, he conceded. Umbridge might have sprouted feathery wings or a beak and it would be par for the course.

 

“I don’t see why I should worry about what you have to say,” Severus said, pinching himself hard to attempt to wake himself up.  If this was what sleep had waiting for him, he’d rather be miserable and exhausted but awake. “You’re just a figment of my imagination.”

 

“Oh, you’d like to think I am, wouldn’t you?” she replied with a sneer. “No matter! You’ll see me soon, and when you do, you’ll wish you were nicer to me.”

 

Severus could feel himself stirring from far away and pinched himself harder. “You, madam, are not worthy of _ bitingly sarcastic _ , much less  _ nice _ .”

 

“Just make sure that you get the rest of the Death Eaters and absorb their Marks like a good servant, or I shall make sure that you dream of me every night.” Umbridge pulled out a purple velvet bag and pinched something between two fingers. “Dreamer’s Dust.  Very useful for traveling into another’s unconscious, wouldn’t you say? A girl never leaves home without it.”

 

And, with a mockery of a schoolgirl giggle, Umbridge faded away into nothingness, leaving Severus with a very bad feeling in his belly.  He pinched his underarm more tightly than before, hissing “Wake up, goddamn you! Wake up!”

 

He opened his eyes to the near dark of the tent, the feeling of a very naked Hermione pressed against his naked body. Though he was more than a little pleased that  _ she _ hadn’t merely been some strange, fever-induced dream, he was also filled with a sense of impending dread.  The snakes curled and coiled under his skin and though he knew he’d been dreaming, he knew that those words were more than just the random firings of neurons in his brain trying to make sense of random stimulus.

  
Umbridge knew about him….and what was worse was that she knew about Hermione...

 

_ Shit. Things just got even more complicated. _

 

Dolores Umbridge rose from her sinfully soft bed and pushed back the pink silky curtains that fell around each edge before slithering to the mirror. She’d had to eat a particularly gamey Muggle mattress salesman to get that damn-near perfect bed, but a girl had to get her beauty rest, and she did have to admit that the Muggles  _ were _ good for creating comfortable sleeping arrangements.  Yawning so wide that she nearly unhinged her jaw, she looked into the glass and rubbed her eyes.  “All is going according to plan,” she said to herself, smiling sickly as she picked up a brush and began smoothing her short, mousy hair.

 

She didn’t mind the scales or the long tail, or the fact that she had to swallow a raw turkey whole once a week. It saved on the grocery bill, that was for certain. She ran her thin tongue against the impossibly long, sharp rows of teeth in her mouth.  Of course, when everything was over, who knows? She might decide to gorge herself on... _ larger _ , bushy-haired prey. 

 

She placed her fingers against the heavy metal amulet that lay against her chest. It had changed her, but she’d been willing. Her new form, after all, was a gift. 

 

A gift from her future mate.

 

“Only a few more, my sweet,” she said, patting the amulet as her mouth contorted into a nightmarish smile. “Worm! Where are you, you lazy little rat?”  

 

Wormtail peeked around the corner, his hair going a pale yellow as he cringed and cowered.

 

Dolores sighed.  He wasn’t perfect, but help was help, and Pettigrew was used to being ordered around. “Prepare my weekly breakfast. And make sure it is still warm, but featherless.  After all, a girl does have her standards!”

 

“Yes, my Lady,” he sniveled, backing out of the door with his head down with respect.

 

‘Hmph.  Well, at least he knows his place,’ Dolores thought to herself with a sniff as she slithered to her wardrobe.  

 

Soon she would have sunlight and power instead of darkness and the smell of sewer water.

 

It was only a matter of time.


	10. Chapter 10: The Ties that Bind

 

Severus kneeled at the foot of the Dark Lord, not trusting himself to look up.  He could feel the anger radiating from the man who sat near the fireplace at Malfoy Manor.

 

“Leave usssss, Luciusssss,” Voldemort hissed, and Severus fought the urge to shiver.

 

Was this the day that he was to be found out? Would his spying be exposed as laughably executed?  Severus remembered the look that Bellatrix had given him that morning when he’d entered Malfoy Manor for Yaxley’s debriefing session. She’d delight in torturing him to insanity, of that he was very certain.

 

“Sssseverussss,” Voldemort said, walking around the kneeling Potions master and slipping the tips of his skeletal fingers, “I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you this morning.”

 

The Dark Lord didn’t seem human, not really. He seemed to be more like an unspeakably alien being wearing the costume of a man. Something inhuman peered out from behind those cold, empty eyes. Severus did not believe in heaven or hell and did not consider himself religious in the least, but Voldemort made him wonder if perhaps something like a demon could actually exist.

 

Of course, Severus would never tell him this, and he was very careful to shield his mind from any thoughts that might even hint at his true thoughts.  The Dark Lord scared the hell out of him, and for good reason.  Severus had seen what had happened to those who had disobeyed their leader.

 

But he’d already gone much further than simple disobedience.

 

“My Lord,” Severus said, bowing low until his knee touched the floor.  He did not dare rise until the Dark Lord bade him to do so. 

 

“I have considered your request and decided upon the price you will pay for the enjoyment of that mudblood witch that you so desire,” Voldemort said, chuckling darkly. 

 

Severus held his breath.  He’d not actually expected the Dark Lord to grant his request, and the mere thought of the hateful look in Lily’s eyes at being dragged to him alive while her son and husband were killed or captured was more than he could allow himself to think about. He hid the horrible thought away in a deep part of his mind and nodded as though he orchestrated deals with the devil on a regular basis.

 

“I have decided that you shall be my second, if I have need for you,” Voldemort purred, touching Severus’ chin and pulling up his face to look into his dark eyes. “You are a worthy vessel- powerful, with stronger magic than any of my flock. You will play this role upon my request. You belong to me just as she belongs to you.  As long as we both hold up our end of the agreement, so shall this pact be in place.”

 

Voldemort drew his wand and slashed quickly against his own forearm where his Mark lay.  He motioned for Severus to hold out his Marked arm as well, mirroring the movement.  Severus did not even flinch as the cut ran down the length of his Mark, red droplets of blood seeping to the surface immediately.  Voldemort grabbed Severus by the inside of his elbow and pressed his cut against Severus’ cut.  A heavy pressure and heat seemed to fill the air as Voldemort said a few words and made quick, precise wand movements that Severus had never seen before. And then, it was gone.  When the Dark Lord let go of his arm, Severus glanced at it and was not surprised to see that the cut had mended as though it had never been there at all. Severus flexed his arm and watched the Mark squirm lazily under his skin.

 

_ Blood magic. _

 

“You are dismissed, Severus,” the Dark Lord said with a nod.

 

“Thank you, my Lord,” Severus replied, turning slowly and walking at a normal pace until he had finally reached the outskirts of the manor and Apparated away.

 

He would spend years after that incident researching blood magic, to no avail.  Whatever dark magic Voldemort had called upon had not been in any magical text on blood magic that Severus had been able to find, even when he’d ordered some of the more hardcore dark magic tomes from Durmstrang.

 

He couldn’t tell Albus, he knew, not while he was already treading on thin ice.  He disgusted the Headmaster. How much more disgust would be added on if the old man knew that he’d shared blood with the Dark Lord?  Severus could not chance being found out, and as the years had passed, he thought of it less and less.

 

Finally, he gave up on his research and decided that he would deal with the issue if it ever arose, though he still didn’t know any specifics whatsoever.  The Dark Lord had been vanquished, even if he was sure to return eventually. Severus put it out of his mind.

 

After all, it didn’t seem likely that anything would come of it after such a long time had passed.

* * *

 

Severus opened his eyes and blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. He was lying on his back and was suddenly very aware of the needles and pins in his arm. 

 

He looked over and nearly squeaked with surprise.  Hermione’s bushy hair was sprawled out over his arm and tickled against his neck ever so slightly.  Her head was firmly pressed against his forearm. Luckily, it was the arm without the mutated Mark upon it, and Severus was able to work his arm free without waking her.  Standing up, he felt his body aching in places that he didn’t know could actually hurt. He looked down at Hermione, whose mouth was half open and her pillow was damp with a bit of drool, and smiled sadly.  For some reason, even though she’d probably be horrified that he was seeing her in such a state, he found it oddly endearing.  She snorted loudly as she shifted onto her back and he could see where her hair was stuck against one of her cheeks.  He stifled the urge to gently pull it away from her face.  

 

No. It wouldn’t do to wake her.

 

The bathroom in the tent was surprisingly adequate.  Severus would not have been surprised if she’d done some renovations on the facilities, especially after what he’d read in the Daily Prophet.  There was a working shower inside with warm running water.  Most Wizarding tents did not have the capacity for heated water, but this one did.  Severus allowed the water to fall over his body for a long time and then washed himself up quickly with the bar of soap that sat on a soap dish on the rim of the tub.

 

He chanced a look at the Mark, but it wasn’t any worse than it had been earlier. The snakes slithered lazily around his arm in an orderly spiral of black ink and the skull shook its jaw slightly as he kept his eyes on it.  Voldemort was gone.  For good this time.

 

“Then what the hell does this mean?” Severus mumbled aloud, shutting off the water and stepping out onto the towel he’d placed on the floor.  

 

He dried himself quickly, all the while remembering the cryptic words that the Dark Lord had told him all of those years ago.

 

“Umbridge has something to do with all of this. I know it.” He stared into the mirror and pointed his wand at the stubble on his face. He hated how scruffy it made him look and immediately removed it with a well-timed spell. “It wasn’t just a dream. Figures that my waking life would be as much a nightmare as when I’m sleeping.”

 

But he knew he didn’t have much of a choice.  If he didn’t find the other Death Eaters, Umbridge would use Hermione.  And he still owed a damn Life Debt to her. He cringed at his reflection in the mirror as he remembered how weak he’d allowed himself to be.  

 

“She’s practically my-” He froze as he saw the reflection of Hermione’s sleepy face in the mirror as she entered the bathroom behind him.

 

“What was that?” she said with a yawn.

 

“Nothing,” Severus said hurriedly, suddenly growing very aware of the fact that he was only wearing a towel around his hips. Hermione merely shrugged and went over to the cabinet to pull out a brush, which she immediately began using to tame her wild locks.

 

“I should only be a few minutes,” she said, rubbing the sleep away from her eye with her free hand.

 

“I...I’ll give you some privacy,” Severus said uncertainly, nearly slamming the door behind him before she could say anything else.

 

Somehow, seeing her like that had ruined the dreamy sense of rightness that he’d felt before.  Now, he felt like some sort of disgusting pervert; an old man who’d allowed himself to get far too close to someone to whom he owed a debt. After all, wasn’t Hermione part of the generation that liked to play the field? He felt even more horrible when he imagined her scorn at thinking that their tryst had been anything but spontaneous and tied to his current situation. 

 

He dressed quickly, though he had a devil of a time finding one of his socks.  Eventually, he found it buried under the covers of the bed, which only further served to remind him of what he’d done. All the while, he began to feel more and more sorry for himself and did his best to ready himself for the rejection that was obviously on its way.

 

“Hey,” Hermione said, placing her hand on his arm. Her eyes were wide and searching. He could see that she was trying to see if he was still in as much pain as before.

 

Severus flinched slightly at the unexpected contact but then pressed slightly against it, his eyes closing instinctively with pleasure.

 

_ No _ , he had to remind himself.  _ She obviously doesn’t think of me like that. _

 

“I will be fine,” he said shortly, not daring to look her in the eye. “I trust that things were...serviceable? I hope you didn’t expect too much.  As you can tell, I’m...inexperienced.”

 

Hermione gave him a puzzled look for a moment and then shrugged, her eyes cool. “I….it was what it was. I was glad to help, in any case.”

 

_ Helping? Is that what they call it these days? _

 

“Er...yes,” Severus said uncomfortably, “but really, I’m fine now, and we really ought to focus on the rest of our mission.”

 

Hermione took her hand away, her eyes growing unfocused as she concentrated in thought and finally she nodded. “Okay. That sounds good. We’ll stick with the plan.”

 

They chatted awkwardly as Hermione worked out the next coordinates.  It seemed from the owl that had been sent by the Ministry that they were actually ahead of schedule.  Severus tried to focus on the thought of his freedom, but he found his mind backtracking to how soft Hermione’s skin had felt against his body and how warm and hot it had been moving inside of her….and...and….she’d allowed him to…inside of her.

 

He gulped. No one had ever let him do  _ that _ . Not that he wanted children of his own immediately or anything, but...just imagining it made his pants grow somewhat tighter than usual.

 

“You did use the contraceptive charm, didn’t you?” Severus asked, hating how his voice sounded so much more demanding than he’d intended. “You don’t want to get knocked up by someone like me. I’m not...reliable.”

 

Hermione blushed scarlet and she huffed at him slightly. “For your information...I...did.”

 

She didn’t sound sure of her words and Severus’ suspicions were confirmed when she hastily excused herself to go back to the bathroom.

 

“Well, of course I did!” she exclaimed, after she’d returned. “I’m not an idiot!”

 

Severus tried to stop the intrusive thoughts in his head, but it was incredibly hard not to imagine her swollen with his child, a wedding band on her finger as she looked up at him with adoration and-

 

He shook his head. Why was he being so ridiculous and sappy?  Weren’t men supposed to find casual rolls in the hay fun? Why, then, was he imagining rubbing her swollen feet and cooking her dinner while she read on the couch?

 

“I’m being stupid,” he muttered, just as Hermione walked back to the table with a letter.

 

“The Ministry is sending us north to a small town near the topmost part of Scotland.  A few Death Eaters have been sighted there,” Hermione said flatly, looking at Severus as though he’d displeased her.

 

“Fine,” Severus snapped, turning and stomping over to the door of the tent.  Could this get any more awkward? He didn’t think so. She could never, ever know how much sharing a bed with her meant to him.  She was obviously focused on the mission, he thought bitterly, and if satisfying the mission objectives meant pity fucking the greasy Death Eater, then he was sure she’d make the sacrifice.  Hermione was nothing if not determined.  From how she was acting, it seemed obvious that it hadn’t meant anywhere near as much to her as it had meant to him.

 

Still, Severus could feel a sense of protectiveness surge in his chest.  He would protect her, he knew.  He would sacrifice himself if needed. In fact, he was looking forward to it in some weird way.  It would repay the debt and the slate would be washed clean.

 

If he was dead and gone, he wouldn’t have to worry about the mental image of Hermione,  _ his _ Hermione, glowing with love as they built a family together.

 

No. If he could not be happy, he could at least settle his debt.  And then, he would never have to feel anything again.


	11. Chapter 11: A Rat in the Ointment

“Come here, Worm,” Dolores said, pointing a long finger at the floor.  Peter scurried over and knelt before her, his nose nearly pressing against the dirty stone beneath him.

 

“You are going on assignment today, my servant,” she said, grinning predatorily. Peter glanced up against his better judgement and saw a hint of row after row of sharp teeth growing from the roof of her mouth.

 

“B...but, won’t you need someone to stay and...serve you, my lady?” he said, swallowing his mounting terror.

 

“Are you disobeying me?” The grin turned into a grimace, which made Peter wince.  The tip of a scaly tail wrapped around his neck and lifted him up, squeezing him ever-so-slightly until he felt like his eyes were bugging out of his skull.

 

“N...never!” he gasped, trying to reduce the increasing pressure around his neck with grasping fingers.  The metal hand found purchase and he squeezed, which made Dolores wince.

 

“Good,” she said, retracting her tail and pulling the tip up to her hands so she could rub it. “Now put that arm to good use and use this Portkey to get to your location. If you can, take the girl.  If you can’t, make sure our unwilling agent does his job.”

 

She tossed a crumpled piece of newspaper at Peter, who slumped with resignation and caught it. 

 

He didn’t dare touch his neck to feel the imprint of the scales that had dug into his skin until after he’d been pulled inside out and deposited on a muddy cow track out in the middle of nowhere. Resisting the urge to turn into his animagus form, which was a constant urge, even though he knew that doing so while wearing his prosthesis would be a bad idea, Peter Pettigrew shuffled down the road towards the ruins of the castle he saw on the hill above him. 

 

He didn’t love Dolores Umbridge, just like he hadn’t loved the Dark Lord, but he could feel the power rolling off of her, and it was simply his nature to submit to the more powerful, especially those who used that power to hurt those weaker than themselves...and probably would hurt him too, if he didn’t make it crystal clear that he would do as they wanted.

 

Sure, he resented his betters, but they were still precisely that-  _ better _ . Peter had some ambitions (mostly surrounding food and lazing about), but he preferred feeling brave when he was standing behind someone with clout, so he busied himself with remembering what his master had told him earlier so that he wouldn’t forget anything.

 

“That girl...the one with the curly hair, she was with Potter’s kid,” Peter muttered to himself.  He’d spent his first few weeks in his new body reading all of the Daily Prophets he could find between the time he’d had his soul sucked into his silver arm and his rebirth.  He also decided that it was best not to look exactly like himself, so he used the metamorphmagus abilities of his new body to grow a week-old beard and morphed his nose to look a bit smaller and less bulbous than his own. He kept his eyes, but he imagined that old Snivellus wouldn’t notice him without the gut and the rat-like teeth (those had been the first things he’d fixed). Glancing down in a muddy puddle that looked suspiciously fresh, Peter quickened his pace.  He did not want to get caught in the downpour that was threatening over his head.

* * *

 

“I bloody hate bloody Scotland,” Severus complained, pointing his wand at his boot and cleaning off the thick, boggy muck that had been steadily rising up to his ankles.

 

“But Hogwarts is in Scotland,” Hermione protested, doing the same to her own boots, which had begun to turn a sickly shade of green.

 

“Case in point,” Severus replied bitterly. “Are we nearly there yet? I believe it’s starting to rain.”

 

“At least the bugs will go away when it does,” Hermione said, shooing away a cloud of gnats with her hand.

 

“Small comfort,” Severus replied irritably, pulling up his collar as fat, freezing drops of water began to splash against his head and shoulders. “And don’t tell me that we can’t use a water repelling charm because we don’t want our magic to be detected because I already figured that would be the case.”

 

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it slowly, obviously electing not to answer.

 

“Sodding stupid Death Eaters and their sodding, moronic idea of a hideout!” Severus kicked a rock and swore loudly when the rock deeply embedded in the muddy earth. “FUCK!”

 

Hermione flinched at his outburst and grabbed the hem of his coat, pulling him under the relative shelter of a thick grove of trees as he tried to storm ahead.

 

“ _ What _ ?!” Severus rounded on her, his face full of fury.

 

“Severus. Please. Talk to me.  Is it your Mark?” Hermione sounded concerned, but her eyebrow was twitching slightly, and it was obvious that her patience was beginning to wear.

 

“Oh. Unhappy with how our little bloodhound is behaving, are we?” Severus replied condescendingly. “Well, excuse me for not leaping at your every command with a smile on my face! You can get me to do your bidding, Mistress, considering that you own my life, but don’t expect me to enjoy every minute of it!”

 

“ _ What _ ?! Severus, what are you talking about?!” Hermione took a step back, but he could see that her wand was in her hand, though it was pointed at the ground and not at him...yet.

 

“Oh? Scared of me, are you?” Severus replied, licking his lips as his eyes went to her wand long enough for her to know that he’d seen. “You weren’t so scared last night. Of course, for all I know, maybe that was part of the fun.”

 

“What is  _ wrong _ with you? You’ve been acting weird all morning, and I don’t think it has to do with what happened yesterday, either. Of course, if you really hated it that much, I would be happy to simply pretend it never happened.” Hermione crossed her arms and scowled. “But do please let me know when you’re finished with your tantrum. We have actual work to do, you know.”

 

“A tantrum? A  _ tantrum _ ? Is  _ that _ what you think this is about?!” Severus was shaking with fury, his hands squeezed into fists. 

 

His anger wasn’t out of control enough to draw his wand yet, though.  He knew that it wouldn’t achieve anything to lash out at her, but for some reason, he simply couldn’t let it go. Hermione may not have been part of what he was beginning to realize was much larger than just a small-scale operation to round up the Dark Lord’s remaining servants, but she had been complacent in it, and he honestly couldn’t say exactly how deep it went. In the end, it didn’t matter. He had been betrayed yet again, and the one person who he’d considered safe for the merest of a second was involved in it.  As he looked at Hermione’s angry expression, he could also see the hurt in her eyes, and he knew that Umbridge would love to see her suffer.

 

“Well, isn’t that what this is? You may be older than I am, but let me remind you that I spent all my school years with two stubborn, prideful, Gryffindor boys. Ron has been mad at me so many times that I find that your theatrics aren’t nearly as intimidating as you try to make them.” Hermione’s voice grew shrill as she sheathed her wand. “Honestly, Severus, I can’t get a decent read on you. You’re hot and cold- angry then quiet- caring and then heartless. In short, you’re a mess. And while I enjoyed last night quite a lot, thank you very much, I can’t help but think that  _ you’re _ the one acting like it was an affront to your decency, not the other way around.”

 

“Well, I’m not the one trying to save the world without asking why it’s become so bloody easy,” Severus replied coldly.

 

Hermione’s expression grew confused. “And what do you mean by that?”

 

“Why don’t you think about it for a minute? You’re supposedly the brightest witch of your age,” Severus replied sardonically.

 

Hermione’s eyes flashed and Severus was strangely reminded of how Lily always looked when he’d said something that irritated her. “I never asked to be called that. Skeeter or one of her cronies did an interview on Hagrid that one time and the damn moniker stuck.  I studied my arse off and worked hard to get where I am today, but I don’t know everything. So. Tell me  _ what you meant  _ by what you just said, or kindly shut the hell up.”

 

Severus swallowed a snarky comeback and tried to order his thoughts. “Fine.”

 

“Well? I’m waiting.” Hermione tapped her foot, which only splashed up mud on her robes instead of properly conveying the intended effect. She cleaned off her robes with a swish and stab of her wand and then resumed glaring at Severus.

 

“What I meant to say is- it would take an entire team at least a year or two to create the Limiter,” Severus started, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. “Not to mention the spell you created to find Death Eaters.”

 

Hermione’s eyes shifted to the side and she suddenly seemed to deflate ever so slightly. “I...I hadn’t really stopped to think about it…”

 

“You could slave away for twenty hours a day for  _ months _ and still not come close enough to a working spell, especially one as specialized as this one, that could be field-ready,” Severus continued, feeling his anger at Hermione draining away as he began to pull the pieces together. “The portkey rings, though, are the nail in the coffin.  How could the Ministry know the exact remaining number of Death Eaters? Why would they know the locations but only send you and me instead of a full Auror team?  The answer is simple- they want you to take me because you can control me.  They want me involved because of this-” he pulled his sleeve up, showing the snakes coiled under his skin, “-and I have a feeling that if we do any more, it will only help them further their plans.”

 

“But...what exactly is the end game, then?” Hermione asked, her eyes still focused on Severus’ arm even though he’d shoved his sleeve back down again. “Surely it’s not a bad thing to finish catching a bunch of Dark wizards and witches, right? And even if more snakes are added to your Mark, there is a treatment in place at St. Mungos that has successfully removed Draco’s and his father’s Marks completely. Which brings  _ me _ back to my original point- are they affecting you? You mentioned earlier that you’d been filled with anger and hatred, and after we...er...did  _ that _ , it seemed to break their influence on you. Now, though, with the way you’ve been acting, I’m not so sure.”

 

Severus could feel his pulse quicken as Hermione alluded to their tryst.  No matter how hard he tried to deny it, it had been one of the high points of his life- one where he’d felt no pain and forgotten just how shitty everything was for a short time.  He tried not to think of the implication that had been left unsaid. He had no illusions that Hermione would do whatever it took, even if it involved taking him to bed each night, to achieve her goal.

 

He hated how much he liked that idea.

 

“Still,” he said sullenly, “you’re making a gamble when none of the adverse effects could possibly affect you.”

 

“Do you think that I don’t care about your wellbeing, Severus?” Hermione sounded hurt. “I’m responsible for you in this mission. I don’t care if you don’t see it that way- that’s how it is.”

 

“Umbridge,” Severus said, staring at Hermione with an unwavering withering gaze.

 

“...what?” Hermione’s eyes widened with confusion.

 

“Dolores. Umbridge.” Severus replied. “The name of the individual who is involved in all of this. I’m not sure how, but she’s involved, somehow, and she wants the plan to continue.  Don’t ask me how I know. You’d probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

 

Hermione frowned. “I know that she is no longer in a position of power in the Ministry, but I also know that the slimy toad of a woman somehow got out of any consequences for her deplorable actions. According to Kingsley she was given a demotion, but all things considered, it was tame compared to what many people thought she deserved. I mean, she is a beastly woman, but I’d never thought of her as Death Eater material.”

 

“She’s not, but something tells me that she’s the Dark Lord’s number one fan now that Bella is gone.”

 

“But that makes no sense!” Hermione exclaimed, “Why would she want them captured, then?”

 

“It has to do with the Mark, I know that,” Severus replied, sighing deeply. “And there’s more.  I….Hermione, you have to know, I’ve never told anybody this, not even Albus Dumbledore, but with all that has happened, you deserve to know.”

 

“W...what?” Hermione gave him a look of pure sympathy that nearly made Severus sneer with disdain. He hated when others pitied him- it made him feel weak.

 

“I think I know why the Mark is doing this, but I still don’t know how,” he said, averting his eyes from her with shame. “The truth is...the Dark Lord...he did something to my Mark after I gave him the prophecy.”

 

Hermione looked at him, her expression one of dawning horror.

 

“He called me his  _ second _ ,” Severus continued, his voice hollow, “In a dual, that is the person who finishes the dual if the original dueler is killed. I can only imagine that this is his intent.”

 

“So what you’re saying is….is…” Hermione’s eyes looked as though she was desperately trying to hold back tears.

 

“Yes,” Severus said softly, his voice a mere whisper as he turned away from her, “I can only guess that the Dark Lord intended for me to be his replacement, and built a mechanism into the Mark to make it so.”

 

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head and clutching at her chest, “It...that’s not true...it..it can’t-”

 

“Look at me, Hermione,” Severus said firmly, turning back. “Look into my eyes.  You know it’s true.  When it’s done, you must kill me.  Only you can do it cleanly without any taint on your soul due to the Life Debt.  I cannot say how much harder it will be to control the Mark as things go on, but you must believe me when I say that the Dark Lord used blood magic that I’ve never seen before, and the potential consequences of doing anything other than ending my life are dire.”

 

“But...I can’t kill you….I….”  Hermione’s eyes were screwed shut as tears leaked slowly from the corners of her eyes.

 

“Hermione! Please, promise me that you will do it!” The earnest plea in his voice seemed to catch her off guard and she opened her watery eyes and looked at him.

 

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Hermione said huskily, her face full of conflicted emotion. “But only if it becomes necessary and not one moment before.”

 

Severus sighed.  Bloody Gryffindors and their chivalry. It would end in blood if she let it go on for too long and they both knew it.

 

“I suppose that will have to do,” he said, finally, trying to sound like he meant it. “Now, then, let’s get those baddies, eh”

 

“Severus, you don’t have to pretend with me,” Hermione said softly, wiping her face on her sleeve. “I know how you really feel about it, so you might as well be honest.”

 

“Fine. Let’s capture those sodding morons. Better?” Severus asked, rolling his eyes theatrically.

 

Hermione nodded. “I promise. I’ll find a way, Severus.”

 

“I hope you don’t mind if I don’t hold my breath,” Severus replied, striding ahead again on his long legs.

 

Hermione had to hurry to keep up with him.

 

Neither saw the man with the silver arm following behind them.


	12. Chapter 12: Subterfuge

**** Hermione knocked on the door to the small shack next to the ruins of the ancient castle. She was in a foul mood, her hair dripping frigid water into her eyes as she tried desperately not to think of the thick mud pooling in her shoes. She had her wand drawn, just in case, but the building looked run down and probably empty.

 

It was with great surprise that she heard the sound of small feet approaching the door. Hermione raised her wand as the door was flung open and- she took in a sharp breath, hiding her wand under her sleeve at once. Large, brown eyes stared up at her as a young girl who was maybe four or five years old stared up at Hermione, her face framed by riotous red curls that were even wilder than Hermione’s hair.

 

“I got it!” the girl exclaimed proudly as a portly woman with fine lines on her face appeared behind her with a look of extreme worry on her face.

 

“H...How did you….” the woman trailed off, her eyes locked with terror at Hermione’s wand hand as she shoved her child behind her. “No! Please- don’t...don’t hurt us!”

 

Hermione hated being looked at as though she were the Death Eater come to kill them.  Of course, this momentary thought was interrupted by the scream of the little girl and Hermione looked up to see Severus coming behind the woman with his wand.

 

The woman went stiff as a board as Severus stunned her from behind, and the little girl immediately screamed in horror and grasped her mother tightly, her eyes screwed shut as she began to cry fat tears in her terror.

 

Severus looked at Hermione, who had begun to scowl deeply at him. “What? The Mark spell that  _ you _ created clearly shows that they’re in here. I’ve stunned three others in the back, all without a fight”

 

“Severus, this is bad!” Hermione hissed.

 

“Well, perhaps they ought to have thought of that before taking the Mark,” Severus replied, though his expression had softened as the girl continued to wail for her mum to wake up. He grimaced as the young girl began to cry more shrilly, working herself up into a frenzy. He tried to grab her arm and jumped back as an electric shock passed through the girl’s skin into his hand. “She’s displaying accidental magic. Fine. I’ll stun her too.”

 

“No!” Hermione jumped in front of the girl and Severus froze. “You’re not going to cast a spell on an innocent child!”

 

“A Death Eater’s child,” Severus replied, looking at her dubiously.

 

“Draco was a Death Eater’s child, and you sure as hell didn’t treat him like this while he was at school!” Hermione hissed back. She turned to the little girl. “Your mum is just fine, she’s just...er...sleeping for a minute or two. Now, let’s take your mother into the other room and everyone can sit down and have a chat, okay?”

 

The girl went silent at Hermione’s kind tone of voice, but she stayed rooted to her mother’s body like a barnacle, her eyes wide and full of fear.

 

“Your mother will not be harmed. You have my word.” Hermione said, though, as she thought of the rings in her pocket, she wasn’t exactly sure that she was being entirely truthful.

 

The girl relaxed slightly, but her eyes immediately went to Severus, who was sneering down at her. She tucked her face into her mother’s apron as though looking at him was simply too terrifying.

 

“Severus, I think you need to go into the other room.  Since none of them put up a fight, you’ll just need to secure their bodies and make sure their wands are confiscated.  Then we’ll Ennervate them and have a little chat.”

 

Severus glowered at her but turned on his heel and did as she said.

 

“Come on, now. What’s your name?” Hermione said, tapping the girl’s mother and levitating her slightly so she could be easily moved.

 

“I’m M...Molly,” the girl said, still refusing to let go of her mother.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Molly. My name is Hermione.  I’m here from the Ministry,” Hermione said as she brought them all through a narrow door frame. The space had obviously been charmed fairly extensively, as the inside was far larger than the outside appeared.

 

“They’re...where the bad men’re from,” Molly said, her voice full of conviction. “But you’re not a man. Does that mean you’re not bad?”

 

“I should hope not,” Hermione replied gently, trying to give the girl a reassuring smile. It felt less than genuine.

 

“Then why’d  _ he _ hafta freeze my mum?” The girl’s voice broke and her eyes filled with fresh tears that she tried to wipe away.

 

“Unfortunately, it was for our protection. We tried to talk to other people before and they attacked us. We had to be sure that nothing bad would happen,” Hermione replied, trying to be as matter-of-fact as she could in simple words.

 

“My mum would never attack anyone!” Molly replied angrily.

 

“That may be true, but first we have to talk about it,” Hermione said with a shrug. “It’s an adult thing, Molly.”   
  


“I  _ know _ ,” the girl muttered irritably, “Adults are  _ always _ talking.”

 

They reached the back room where Severus was sitting on a chair near the far wall, his arms crossed with irritation.  Three men were lying on the ground, their bodies tied securely with magical ropes. They were still unconscious, though, which Hermione supposed was to keep them from yelling or screaming at Severus.

 

“Ok, Molly, I’m going to ask you to sit over here,” Hermione said, moving a chair next where she’d Levitated her mother. “I’m going to wrap your mother up in the same ropes and wake her up so we can talk.  Do you understand?”

 

The girl nodded, letting go of her mother to sit in the chair. She slumped her shoulders and kicked her small legs back and forth glaring at Severus, who returned the gesture.  Hermione added her own magical restraints on Molly’s mother and then went to each sleeve and lifted them, grimacing when she saw that two of the four bore Marks.

 

With a deep sigh, she reawakened Molly’s mother, who gasped and immediately screamed. “Harry!”

 

Hermione winced. It was hard hearing her best friend’s name being screamed in such a horrible manner. She tried to put on a kind expression and turned to the woman, who’d begun to cry as she turned her head and saw the others lying next to her with their sleeves pulled up.

 

“Hello,” Hermione said, “Can you tell us your name?”

 

“Why don’t you just kill us and be done with it!” the woman screamed, her face contorted in a feral snarl. 

 

“We’re not here to kill you, you moron,” Severus growled from his spot near the wall. “If we were, you’d already be dead.”

 

“ _ Severus _ !” Hermione hissed. “You are  _ not _ helping!”

 

“Hmph, suit yourself.” Severus picked up an old copy of the Prophet and pretended to read it.

 

“I read about you in the papers,” the woman said angrily. “So why is it that  _ you _ get the pardon but folks like us have to run for our lives?”

 

“Talk to me when you survive the walk of shame through the streets of London,” Severus quipped as Hermione silently willed him to shut up. He gave her a curious look as though to say  _ fine, I’ll be quiet _ and Hermione turned back to the woman and her daughter.

 

“Please, help me understand,” Hermione said, trying to keep her voice even as Molly grabbed her mother around the waist and cried softly. 

 

“My name is Olivia Norton. My husband is Harry Norton.  He’s a Muggle. Since you’ve obviously taken my wand and seen my Mark, you know I’m a witch. I am distantly related to both of the Black and Lestrange families.  Let’s just say that Bellatrix Lestrange came recruiting and you don’t say  _ no _ to someone like that.” Olivia winced as she seemed to remember that moment in her life and then looked down at her daugher crooking her neck to rest her cheek against the top of her daughter’s head. “I didn’t have to do much. I was stationed up here and had to put up guests in the old castle up the track without asking questions and pass on messages to the right people as needed.  The Dark Lord only Marked me so he could summon me for monthly reports.  I fell in love with my husband when most of the war had gone south into London, so no one was staying in the castle. When it was finally over, the Ministry didn’t try very hard to find those of us who weren’t in the inner circle. I thought I could just...make a fresh start. My husband is a good sort- an archeologist who’d come to study the supposed ruins and decided to stay.  We became good friends and...well…” She looked at her daughter. “I had a newborn in my arms when the Dark Lord returned. The summoning hurt immensely, and I went to him silently. I saw that poor boy die...I saw the THING the Dark Lord had become try to kill that other poor boy….Harry Potter….but I was too afraid to speak up. I was too afraid to do anything.  I’ve never been in a real battle before. I had my daughter and my husband...if the Dark Lord knew...they could be killed...I froze up….I….” She looked away, obviously ashamed.

 

“Phillip there is like me,” she said sadly, inclining her head at the other man, whose Mark was harder to see against his dark brown skin. “He’s from the Zabini family but got disowned when he ran off to the French countryside with his Muggle fiance after being Marked against his will by his father. He too was summoned, and he too had to watch the horror unfold. I held his hair back as he vomited after it was over. I was lucky. I had my hair tied back so I only had to worry about my boots.”

 

“But...they’re Muggles,” Hermione said slowly, looking at the other two men. 

 

“Please understand,” Olivia said, her expression growing somewhat irritated, “most of us who don’t take stock in the pureblooded power feuds between the older, more wealthy families aren’t nearly as closed-minded as you might think. Besides, Muggles have their own kind of magic- they are some of the most resourceful people I’ve ever met, and their technology is basically magic that anyone can use if they simply spend some time to learn it. There’s a kind of helplessness that one develops when one relies on magic too much.  My Harry keeps me from falling prey to that sort of hubris.”

 

Hermione glanced at Severus, who shrugged. “It’s true that the Dark Lord was notorious for Marking his followers in different ceremonies so that no one would ever know all of his servants,” he said thoughtfully. “In fact, most of the time when we were summoned, we were wearing the masks, which were charmed with voice-distortion charms and capes to keep us from figuring out our identities unless we were all part of a particular training group or squad. Other than Lucius, who sponsored me, I only had a vague idea of the highest level members- names that everyone knew, other than the other Potions masters in the Dark Lord’s laboratory.”

 

“Please,” Olivia whispered, “Leave us be.  We just want to live our lives quietly without any fanfare. If you can’t do that, then kill us here and bury our bodies in the bog. I know what happens in Azkaban.  I do not wish for my daughter to see her mother after the Dementors are finished.”

 

“I...I need to talk to my colleague,” Hermione said, forcing her mouth in a thin line.

 

Severus sighed but walked out into the hallway with her, casting a  _ Muffliato _ spell to keep anyone from overhearing.

 

“Severus, we can’t….we can’t…do this…” Hermione said, allowing her eyes to tear up as they’d been threatening to do while Olivia had been speaking.

 

“She could be lying,” Severus said unhelpfully.

 

Hermione frowned, considering this.  “I don’t think she is, though.  Otherwise, why would they be married to Muggles?”

 

“My mother was from a pure blooded family. My father was a Muggle. He sweet talked her, married her quickly and then knocked her up. She couldn’t escape after being disowned by her family. I became a reminder of the source of all of her suffering, lucky me. They hated each other by the end,” Severus replied, his voice deadpan.

 

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and he snorted derisively. 

 

“I’m just saying that you can never really tell just by looking,” Severus clarified, “but it’s up to you. You’re the boss, after all.”

 

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Wait. You can use Legilimency. Why can’t you just look into their memories and determine if they’re telling the truth?”

 

“I will not look into someone’s mind without their permission, Hermione,” Severus said with a frown. “However, if they give me permission and their story checks out, they still have their Marks. In fact, my arm throbs pleasurably every time I get closer to them.  How are we going to keep others from coming after them the same way we did if we just leave them here like this?”

 

“You leave that to me,” Hermione said, biting her thumb in concentration. “But first, you need to go back in there and get their permission.”

 

“Hmph. They aren’t going to like it,” Severus replied, “but then again, it’s not like I care either way.  I’ll talk to the woman first.”

 

“Don’t scare Molly,” Hermione scolded.

 

“ _ Fine _ . I’ll ask  _ nicely _ ,” Severus said, rolling his eyes.

 

Hermione shooed him back into the other room and pulled her notebook from her beaded handbag and began to make some notes.  

 

She had her work ahead of her, but as she thought back to the stricken look on Molly’s face, she knew it would be worth it.

 

If it actually worked.


	13. Chapter 13: Out, Damned Mark!

Hermione had nearly filled three pages with writing before she began to piece together a cohesive plan. The main problem was that she didn’t know if the plan would work, but the good news was that if it didn’t, the possible consequences weren’t that dire.  Either it would work, or it wouldn’t.

 

The problem, then, was if something else happened- something that she wasn’t expecting based off of what she knew about how the Mark worked.

 

Hermione hated being unable to be sure.

 

“If only there was some way know for certain,” she muttered, biting on her ballpoint pen.  Quills might have been required at Hogwarts, but Hermione preferred the Muggle kind. They didn’t leak everywhere all the time, for one.

 

When she finally stepped back into the room where Severus waited for her, a resigned look on his face, she could already tell that she’d been right.

 

“Well?” she asked, noticing that the other three men were now awake as well, though they were still tied down with magical ropes.

 

“You were….correct in your assumption,” Severus said, slowly.  He looked as though he was forcing himself to say the words against his better judgement.

 

“So, you’re the one who made the case for our innocence,” a dark-skinned man- Phillip, Hermione remembered, smile gently at her.

 

“Hmph,” the man next to him said, glaring at them both, “They still look suspicious to me.”

 

“Don’t mind Len,” Phillip said, scooting over and giving his Muggle husband’s hand a gentle squeeze at an odd angle due to his hands being tied at his sides, “he tends to get a bit protective of me.”

 

“Oh really? I hadn't noticed,” Severus said sarcastically, rubbing a slightly red mark on his cheek. 

 

“What happened?” Hermione asked. 

 

“Oh, he just tried to headbutt me when I revived him to check his memories,” Severus said with a sneer. “I moved quickly enough to avoid any...permanent damage.”

 

“Well excuse me but maybe I don't trust unmarked agents of the government sneaking around and taking citizens hostage,” Len snapped, “Especially not after they nearly burned down our favorite pub last month because they didn't like seeing  _ our lot _ walking down the street. Apparently holding hands with another bloke deserves a death penalty because they don’t want to have to  _ see _ it.”

 

Hermione didn’t know what to say to that. Her mind flashed back to the night where a group of Death Eaters led by Bellatrix Lestrange had attempted to set the Burrow on fire, and she had to shake her head to stop herself from remembering the horrible smell of smoke and ash.

 

“I’m sorry that we had to do this-” Hermione started.

 

“No. You didn’t. You don’t ever  _ have _ to do things like this,” Olivia said.  Molly was sitting in her lap with a worried look on her small face as she wrapped her arms around her mother.

 

“That may be true,” Severus said sternly, “but the last group of Death Eaters we visited tried to  _ murder _ us, and after they were captured, we found documents that showed that they were planning on finding places with large concentrations of Muggles that they could kill easily all at once.  We had to be sure about your all before we decided on our next course of action.”

 

Phillip and Olivia shared a look and nodded.

 

“It’s true,” Olivia said, “we all knew of the higher ups in the organization. Most of us were terrified that we’d be killed for entertainment even after we’d taken the Mark.”

 

“The same went for me until I was able to give the Dark Lord some useful information,” Severus said, nodding. “Bella enjoyed torturing new recruits so that she wouldn’t get  _ rusty _ . That was, at least, her excuse for it.”

 

“Well, about your Marks-” Hermione started

 

“If only this damned Mark could be removed,” Phillip interrupted angrily. “I would amputate my arm if I didn’t need it for my work.”

 

“He makes intricately carved wooden sculptures,” Len explained. “The charmed ones move in predetermined ways and he sells them to magical folks, but the ones he sells to Muggles like myself are so realistic you’d swear they moved without magic.”

 

“Interesting as that might be, it appears that Hermione was in the middle of speaking,” Severus said dismissively. “She was about to tell you about her plan to remove your Marks.”

 

Everyone’s eyes flew to stare at Hermione.

 

“Well,” she said, “There’s good news and there’s bad news.  The good news is that I’ve done some figures and I believe there’s a reasonable chance I can remove your Marks.”

 

“And the bad news?” Everyone stared as Harry (not  _ Harry _ , Harry, Hermione reminded herself, but Muggle Harry, who looked nothing like her best friend) finally spoke.

 

“The bad news is that if it doesn’t work, we don’t have many other options. We were supposed to bring in a certain number of Death Eaters using these rings,” Hermione said, holding one up to show them, “and if you don’t get sent to the Ministry with them on, there’s a chance that the Ministry will find a way to come after you again...with less sympathetic agents. There’s also a very tiny chance that the magic could cause harm to you as well.”

 

“ _ Very _ reassuring,” Len quipped, rolling his eyes.

 

“Don’t make me  _ Stupefy _ you again,” Severus grumbled.

 

“No one is  _ Stupefying _ anyone!” Hermione said, hating the shrillness in her voice. “But the truth is, I need someone to volunteer to let me try the removal process or we won’t know for sure.  I modified it based off of the Mark removal procedure we created for Draco and Lucius Malfoy.”

 

“It just goes to show that the rich always get the best treatment,” Olivia said bitterly, “I bet neither of them saw a day inside of a cell.”

 

“They had all of their wealth confiscated to pay damages,” Hermione replied, “Well, except for the Manor, which is tied to their blood. They were going to be sent to Azkaban, but Harry...er...my friend Harry intervened because of what they did in the end to help defeat Voldemort.”

 

Severus winced. “Do you mind?” He pointed at his arm and Hermione grimaced at the realization that his changed Mark was probably hurting.

 

“I volunteer,” Phillip said, looking at Hermione with a serious expression. “Even though there’s a small chance something could go wrong, Olivia has Molly to think of, and I would not be able to forgive myself if something were to happen.”

 

“Phillip, I can’t expect you to do that,” Olivia said, looking torn, “Besides, weren’t you two finishing up the adoption process for those twins who lost their parents in the war and were placed at a Muggle orphanage?”

 

“It doesn’t matter anyway if the court decides to void the agreement because our union isn’t seen as valid by Muggle law,” Phillip said bitterly. “I can’t go to the Ministry for help because of my Mark, either. If I can finally be free of it, I will have more of a fighting chance to secure the family that Len and I have always wanted.”

 

“All right, then,” Hermione said, removing Phillip’s ropes, “Come to the table and place your arm with the Mark facing up.  It may get hot and sting a bit, but there shouldn’t be any added discomfort.”

 

“Can’t I at least hold his hand?” Len whined, scowling at Severus.

 

“Severus, it’s okay. Let him free,” Hermione said. “In fact, let them all free. We know the truth and they know they need our help.”

 

Severus made an annoyed noise but did as she asked.

 

“Mama!” Molly cried, wrapping her arms around her mother.  She grinned as her mother did the same. “I’m sorry I opened the door, Mama!”

 

Len stood and took Phillip’s other hand. “I’m right here.”

 

“I know,” Phillip said, looking at Hermione’s wand apprehensively.

 

Hermione started by tracing the Mark with the tip of her wand and chanting an incantation over the Mark until the edges began to glow red.  “ _ Reditus ut Auctorum _ ,” she repeated, continuing the swirls of rune patterns over the skin in an unbroken and steady motion.  Phillip winced and small beads of sweat began to rise on his temples, but he held firm with his hand on the table.  Then, as though lifting a shadow, the Mark uncoiled itself from Phillip’s skin and hung in the air above his arm, twisting and writhing.  The snake expanded and swallowed the skull, turning pitch black, and then shot into the air and slammed into Severus, who was still standing in the corner, looking as though he knew exactly what was about to happen.

 

With a sharp cry, Severus doubled over, clutching his arm.  

 

“It...it’s gone!” Phillip cried out, as Hermione rushed to Severus.

 

“My arm...it….aughhhh,” Severus panted. “Just...give me a moment...ugh…”

 

“Can you take one more?” Hermione replied, looking at him with a frown. “If it’s too much-”

 

“Do it,” Severus growled, looking over at Olivia and her daughter and then back at Hermione, “I’ve had worse.”

 

“Only if you’re sure…” Hermione placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off violently.

 

“I’m  _ sure _ !” he hissed. “Do it!”

 

“Take Molly into the kitchen for some toast,” Olivia said to her husband as Hermione stood and strode back to the table. Phillip and Len were sitting on the couch. Phillip’s eyes filled with tears as he stroked the Mark-free skin on his forearm. Len’s sour expression had completely disappeared and he was practically beaming with joy.

 

When Molly had finally disappeared into the kitchen with her father, Olivia set her arm down on the table. “I don’t care how much it hurts,” she said, her eyes fierce, “If I can have my life back...if my family can be safe….”

 

Hermione nodded and began the spell.  Olivia’s Mark smoked slightly and Hermione adjusted her wand work until it was more precise.  In the end, it took slightly longer for the Mark to lift from the skin fully, but Hermione got it all. As it had before, the Mark seemed to be drawn to Severus and flew towards him with disturbing speed, hitting his arm so violently that Severus stumbled backwards and hit the wall, knocking loose a picture frame to his left.  Hermione immediately froze the frame mid-fall with her wand and gently levitated it onto the ground to keep it from shattering before running over to Severus with concern in her eyes.

 

“Are you alright?” she asked as he panted and shook.

 

“What do you think?” he whispered, his face paler than ever.

 

“What can I do for the pain?” she said, pulling out her beaded bag and opening it slowly.

 

“There’s nothing you can do...I...urk!” Severus shuddered and spasmed his head falling backwards as he lost consciousness.  Hermione pressed her ear against the front of his robes and sighed with relief as she felt the rise and fall of his chest.

 

Even though Hermione knew he’d told her not to do it, she still grabbed a few potions from her bag and placed them on the table for when he woke up.  Then, she cast a Cushioning Charm underneath him and helped shift him into a more comfortable position.  He looked terrible, his face nearly ghost-white with dark rings under his eyes that hadn’t been nearly as prominent before.  He looked nearly corpse-like save for the fact that he was breathing raggedly.  Hermione didn’t even want to know how bad his arm looked with the addition of two extra Marks. She only hoped that the effect wouldn’t be the same as before. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was further widen the gulf that stretched between them with further awkwardness and bad blood.

 

But Hermione didn’t have any time to think further than that, for a blood-curdling shriek filled the room.  Without thinking, Hermione’s wand was in her hand and she was darting down the hall towards the kitchen.  Molly’s father was lying on the floor in a Full Body Bind, a broken plate with toast lying on the floor next to him.

 

“NO! NO! NOT MY BABY!” Olivia was screaming as she pounded on the door to the kitchen, which looked as though it had a ward raised on it.  Hermione had forgotten that the wands were still tucked into Severus’ jacket.

 

Hermione took one look at it and sent a Blasting Hex at it, blowing the door off its hinges before charging through.  She got a glance of a man who looked oddly familiar yet somehow different, dragging Molly up the hill.

 

“Stop right there!” Hermione bellowed, charging after them. 

 

Molly was struggling, but something was wrong with the man’s arm. It glinted in the half-cloudy daylight as though it were covered with tinfoil.  

 

The man turned back, and there was something between fear and disdain in his expression.

 

“You want the girl?” he snarled, his nose twitching oddly as he pulled the girl in front of him, “Come and get her, then.”

 

Hermione set her jaw and rushed towards him, her wand out and ready.

 

“Let her go,” she threatened.

 

“Or what? I hardly think you’re going to stop yourself from hexing me if I let this little morsel go,” the man said with a sneer.

 

Molly, meanwhile was stomping on his feet, which made him squeal sharply.

 

“You’d better let go before she does worse,” Hermione said, giving Molly a reassuring smile. “She’s been known to electrocute people she doesn’t like.”

 

“Well, I’ve got a wand and she doesn’t,” the man said, pulling his wand just as Molly twisted and kneed him in the groin.

 

“OOF!” he cried, bending over as Molly ran towards Hermione, “Why, you little-” He aimed his wand at the girl and sent a Slicing Hex towards her.  

 

Hermione acted on instinct. With a powerful crackling noise like the sound of a lightning strike, she Apparated in front of Molly and caught the spell full-on her chest.  Immediately, pain and warmth blossomed across her field of vision, and she fell, her body suddenly heavier than it had ever been in her life. The sound of a girl screaming entered her ears as though from far away, and she tried to turn her head, but one of her eyes was streaked with red and she couldn’t move her hand to wipe it away. 

 

The man leaned over her, his face bulging slightly as his nose twitched like an animal’s for a moment and he grinned, long, yellow buck teeth hanging from the roof of his mouth.

 

“Tsk, tsk. That’s going to stain,” he said with a sneer, pressing her wound with a finger until she grunted with pain. “Now then. It’s time you came to play with me.”

 

He pointed his wand at Hermione and through the heat and the heaviness, she could feel her consciousness falling away even as she fought it.

 

She was trapped and at his mercy, but all she could bring herself to hope was that he would only take her.


	14. Without You, I Am...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I am aware it’s been awhile since I’ve updated this story. Many apologies! Life got crazy and then I got writer’s block and then I had to do a bunch of extra judging for a competition I’ve been doing….you know how it goes…Thank you for bearing with me, though. It truly means a lot.

******** Severus stumbled out of the house just as Hermione Apparated in front of the little girl and took a Slicing Hex full-force to her own chest. He could feel the impact almost as though it was his own, and doubled over with a sharp, pained hiss.

 

“No!” He choked out the words and his arm burned to the bone, but the man had already grabbed Hermione and Apparated.

 

They were gone. 

 

The girl scrambled forward, and for a moment, though he knew it wasn’t her fault, Severus hated her.

 

“Mama!” she screamed, tackling her mother, who’d rushed out behind Severus.

 

“Here.” Severus threw the wands onto the ground behind him, breathing heavily. “Now. Tell me...tell me about the man who  _ took _ her.”

 

“He had an M,” Molly said, peeking out from her mother’s shoulder, where she’d buried her face. “Like for Molly.”

 

“Or Ministry,” Severus spat angrily. “Well, it seems that you no longer need my service, so I shall take my leave.”

 

He attempted to step backwards and stumbled, rolling his ankle painfully.

 

“You still look like you need to recover from what she did to you, to be honest,” Olivia said, still holding her daughter tightly.

 

“I've suffered worse.”  Severus sneered at the woman more out of habit than anything. “It's no more than I deserve, after all. You know my name. Even out here in the sticks, you would know. You know what I had to do...had to  _ allow _ ...just to serve the so-called  _ greater good.” _

 

Severus ground out the last words, his mind flashing back to that utterly horrific year, and he gasped as images flashed before his eyes, magical energy crackling out from his tainted Mark and intensifying the pain. 

 

He screamed and dropped to his knees on the dirt, then collapsed, curling into the fetal position as though trying to ward off invisible blows. 

 

The Mark drank his pain greedily, forcing him to relive every moment he’d ever been hurt- everything from stubbing his toe to being tortured by Bellatrix until he’d soiled himself.

 

_ Yessss....yesssss...the pain…it pleases usssss…. _

 

Severus went deadly still.  He knew that voice. It wasn’t exactly the same as the voice of the man with the glowing red eyes and the snake-like face who had called himself Voldemort, but it was close enough to make his blood run cold. Umbridge had said...but no...the man was dead, his soul shattered to dust by Harry Potter.

 

... _ Right _ ?

 

The snakes writhed so violently that his skin rippled painfully and stretched outward, ridges forming where each snake twisted and turned.  His arm was dark all the way up his shoulder and, as he desperately unbuttoned the front of his jacket and pulled it aside, he could see that the darkness now stretched across his collarbone under the scar from Nagini’s bite.  As though reminded of its power, he could feel the skin on his chest stretching painfully for a moment before it flattened and stilled once more.

 

Severus waited for a long moment, barely daring to breathe before realizing that the torture was over...at least for the time being.

 

Severus considered Apparating multiple times to get back to the Ministry. After all, if Molly was right and the man was from the Ministry of Magic, it was very likely that he was connected to Umbridge in some way. He could probably Apparate directly there if he really concentrated, but he was still lying on the somewhat muddy ground and it was obvious that he was still recovering from receiving two Marks in short succession.

 

“Here.” A phial was thrust under his nose as he pulled himself to a sitting situation. “It’s Pepperup Potion. A special blend just for emergencies.”

 

Severus stared at it warily and sniffed the distinctive aroma with a suspicious look at Olivia, who had knelt down with a kind look on her face.

 

“Come on, don’t look at me like that,” she chided. “After all, you saved our lives.  It is the least I can do in return.”

 

Severus didn’t like drinking unknown potions, but he realized that he had little choice unless he was willing to sleep for a week and recover from his ordeal naturally. He quickly guzzled it down and grimaced at the bitter flavor, his eyes growing wide when the effect of the potion hit him almost immediately.  His pain seemed to dissipate and was gone in moments. He stood carefully, moving his arms gingerly and stretching out his legs with no ill-effects.  Suddenly, he was filled with a sense of possibility, of power, and he nearly leapt into the air.

 

“This is amazing,” he panted, closing his hand into a tight fist and squeezing his fingers until they ached.

 

“It’s not good to use regularly, but in a pinch, it’s very useful,” Olivia replied with a shrug.

 

Severus could feel his thoughts racing as the potion worked its magic.  Suddenly, his mind strayed to the rings in his pocket, the ones he was supposed to use on the Death Eaters.  Wouldn’t they bring him to wherever Hermione was taken?  After all, Umbridge had been disgraced by the Ministry. If she had been planning something, it would likely be done in some secret place, hidden away from everyday operations.

 

Severus grimaced. He would be walking blindly into a trap and he knew it. But he could still feel the cord of the Life Debt stretching between himself and Hermione, not to mention when she’d...she’d…..

 

He shook his head and tried to forget  _ that _ particular interlude. He’d read far too much into it. He’d decided that was the case.  Though, he couldn’t help but think about the way she’d looked into his eyes when he’d been suffering- the truly distraught expression on her face as though it broke her heart to allow harm to come to him.  No one had looked at him like that, not even Dumbledore for all of his willingness to look beyond another slimy Death Eater.  For a moment, he let his heart hope just a little bit before pushing it down deep inside of himself. 

 

After all, it wouldn’t do to be distracted.

 

Severus held his wand in his hand and looked at the Limiter band that Hermione had affixed upon it.  For some reason, he had a strange feeling that Umbridge was behind that as well, at least to some extent.  He remembered the odd, almost confused look on Hermione’s face when she’d spoken about how quickly she’d been able to have it approved for use.  And, though he knew that she hadn’t save his life just to get him into this mess, part of him had to wonder just how far the conspiracy went.  Hermione was being used just like he was, but for some reason, it infuriated him to think of her being treated in such a manner.  His whole life he’d been told he had no value- even his mother had once wished aloud that she’d never had him, because then she would not have lost everything. But the thought of Hermione, with her fierce loyalty and kind eyes, being exploited filled him with a righteous fury that he could not summon for himself.

 

Severus readied his wand and graciously accepted the small phials of labeled potions that were pressed into his hand by Olivia.

 

“You need them more than we do,” she said, giving him a curious look.

 

“Thank you,” Severus said, looking down at Molly and suppressing the urge to give her the tiniest of smiles.

 

It wasn’t because he was happy. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth.  But he knew what it was to suffer before he could protect himself, and he knew that no child deserved to be taught about the often cruel realities of the world before they needed to know of them.

 

“Good bye,” Molly said shyly, waving with her mother as Severus stepped back and pulled out one of the rings from his pocket.

 

“Farewell,” Severus said, slipping the ring onto his finger and gripping his wand with renewed determination.  

 

He was gone in an instant; the impression of his boots in the muddy earth the only thing that remained behind.


	15. Dark Plans, Darker Revelations

Hermione collapsed onto her knees, her nose immediately picking up the scent of decay and refuse.

 

“Where are we?” she asked the man, her voice weak.  She’d lost a fair amount of blood, and Apparating hadn’t exactly helped matters one bit, as the squeezing bit had apparently hastened the blood loss.

 

A strange part of her mind found that almost fascinating until she was brought back to the more emergent need of surviving the wound that stretched down her front.

 

“No, no,” the man was muttering to himself, “this will not do at all.”

 

He produced a wand and cast a few healing spells that she didn’t recognize, then pulled out a bottle of dittany and  ripped open the remains of her shirt.

 

“I’m not a pervert, you know,” he said, looking away as he poured it over the remaining lacerations. “Here, drink this.”

 

He shoved blood replenisher at Hermione, who’d begun to shiver with the cold and a bit of remaining shock, and then turned around, pulling off the outer layer of his robes.  He wore a button up shirt and trousers underneath, but Hermione wouldn’t have cared if he was naked.  He threw the robes at her.

 

“They’ll be big and a bit musty,” he muttered, ”but better than nothing.”

 

Hermione caught them, trying not to think about the scent of old sweat that assaulted her nose as she pulled them over her head. Still, she’d stopped shivering.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Hermione said, handing back the empty bottle and wiping the rest on the back of her hand. “Why would you attack a child?”

 

“I wasn’t going to hurt her,” he replied, looking at her with a disgusted look on his handsome face, as though he’d expected better of her, “but I needed to get your wand, and it’s a fairly well-known fact that you’d win in almost any fair duel.  My mistress sent me to retrieve you, you see, and she’s not very  _ pleasant _ when I disappoint her.”

 

He pulled back his sleeve, revealing large, purpling bruises that reached all the way up his wrist.

 

“That’s what happened when I didn’t make her tea just so,” he growled, his nose twitching. “I may be a follower through and through, but I’ve still got a sense of self-preservation, and if I’m not told not to do something, well, I figure there’s a bit of a leeway there.”

 

“Do I know you?” Hermione asked, backing away from him until she was pressed against the wall.  She knew that if she kept him talking that she might be able to escape. “There’s something about you that I vaguely recognize, but I can’t quite seem to put a finger on it.”

 

“Ah, yes, well, there’s a good reason for that,” he replied with a shrug, shaking his head gently back and forth until Hermione could see that his face had changed to that of a dead man’s.

 

“P...Pettigrew?” She stammered, shocked.

 

“Aye, it’s me. The reject member of the Marauders, as Sirius used to call me,” he said, shaking his head gently so that it morphed back his more handsome look. “The mistress prefers this face, so I keep it, no matter how unnatural it feels. Don’t look at me like that, girl; I don’t deserve your sympathy. It’s not like I wanted to come back. It’s this blasted arm.  It sucked my soul out of my body, at least that’s what it felt like- endless waiting in the frozen mist without being able to see anything, and I was left waiting inside until  _ she _ released me.”

 

“You can still do the right thing,” Hermione replied, feeling vaguely nauseated.

 

“You think so? Then you’re more deluded than I ever was, thinking I’d finally be able to step out from the shadow of my  _ betters _ !” Peter’s teeth had morphed into the long incisors of a rat as he snarled. “I had a wife, you know. A young daughter, too. Not that anyone in the Order cared about protecting  _ them _ . They weren’t  _ special _ , you know. Or  _ chosen _ . They thought that she was with Sirius, and for obvious reasons! Hah, like he’d ever settle with one woman...or man.  The Dark Lord killed my wife and took my daughter away, telling me that I had to follow him...spy for him unless I wanted her corpse delivered to my front door. I wasn’t strong enough to choose the Order over my own flesh and blood.”

  
“Then why would you stay with the Weasleys as a rat all those years?” Hermione said, her stomach churning at the way that Peter’s face had become so ratlike that she fully expected his face to split in half and a snout to burst out.

 

“BECAUSE HE HAD HIS FOLLOWERS PUT HER SOMEWHERE AND THEY WERE EVERYWHERE, EVEN AFTER THE WAR!” He bellowed. “DO YOU THINK I DIDN’T SEARCH? I DID! BUT THE DARK LORD WAS FAR TOO CLEVER FOR ME. I HAD TO BRING HIM BACK- MAKE HIM COME BACK AND TELL ME! SHE KNOWS...SHE SAYS SHE KNOWS….SHE HAS TO KNOW BECAUSE OTHERWISE...OTHERWISE-”

 

Peter buried his head in his hands, sobbing hysterically, and Hermione took her chance, ramming him in the belly so hard that he flew backwards against the hard stone behind him. Peter let out a surprised “Whuuu!?” and crumpled against the wall.  She rifled through his pockets and pulled out both wands and a couple of other potions that he’d stored in his chest pocket.

 

After securing him with magical ropes and half levitating, half dragging him into a small cell that she found a bit further down the corridor, Hermione transfigured her borrowed robes to be a bit less voluminous, with a bit of Scourgify on the smelly bits for good measure, then began to explore her new surroundings. 

 

It was obvious that she was either underground or near water, as there was little ambient light and the sound of water dripping was everywhere. It was also obvious that she was not in a natural tunnel or cave, as there were blocks of stone everywhere, even though many of them were cracked with age or covered with slimy-looking mold.

 

There was also a slight sewer-like smell, that told Hermione that, wherever she’d landed, it likely housed pipes and waterways that held waste products. Though that was a disgusting proposition at first, Hermione realized that she could trace the pipes back to where they originated, which would likely lead her to a door or grate that she could escape from and reorient herself.  She found herself wondering just who Pettigrew’s so-called “mistress” was, but she also decided that she didn’t want to find out. 

 

An echoed shout disturbed her from her thoughts and she looked up, trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound.

 

“Gerroff, you pieces of shite!” yelped a familiar voice. 

 

There was a sharp cry and a frightened whine as something flew against a wall.

 

“Severus!” Hermione hissed, readying her wand and following the source of the noise.

 

She found him in a small cell filled with dog-sized crocodile-like creatures. For, while they had wide, long jaws, their bodies were covered in fur, and they had ears somewhat like rabbits.  Their eyes were apparently big and soulful when they weren’t trying to consume everything in sight, and Severus had just shaken one off of his boot and kicked it in the snout when she arrived at the door to the cell.

 

“Are you alright?” Hermione said, searching her pockets for the runic key she’d taken from Pettigrew and used to lock him in his cell.

 

“Some help would be appreciated about now!” he retorted, turning and hitting another creature with a stunner.

 

Finally, Hermione grabbed the key and put it in the lock with shaking hands, opening it just as Severus backed up against the door, the tip of his boot encased in the mouth of one of the creatures.

 

“Sometime this year would be nice!” he shouted, flinging the thing from his boot and throwing it against the far wall with a sickening thud.

 

Hermione opened the door and let him stumble backwards through it before slamming it on a couple of the advancing creatures.

 

“Bloody Crockles,” Severus muttered, sitting down hard and examining his dragonhide boots for damage. “Feck off, the lot of yeh!”

 

He turned and flipped off the creatures, some of whom had recovered and were ramming against the bars, still apparently hoping to make him into a meal. They merely growled back in a markedly disappointed manner, which made for a rather humorous spectacle.

 

“How’d you get here?” Hermione asked, once she’d stopped snickering.

 

“I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking,” Severus grumbled back, “I think one got a bit of my sleeve, though. Damn. And this was one of my favorite outfits, too.”

 

“But all of your outfits look the same,” Hermione replied.

 

“Hence  _ one of my favorites _ ,” Severus replied, emphasizing the words.

 

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Hermione said, “How did you get here?”

 

Severus held up the ring and then tossed it away. “Seeing as our previous marks were unconscious and wandless when we sent them on their merry way, I shall assume that the outcome of their journey was quite a bit less...survivable.”

 

Hermione’s heart sank. “I was told that-”

 

“You were told a  _ lie _ . You were told what you wanted to hear, which was probably that they’d be receiving a  _ fair trial _ , or some nonsense like that,” Severus said, looking up at her with a disgusted expression. “I’m not even surprised at this point. We’re dealing with the Ministry, here, and those who work here range from benign incompetence to delusions of fascism. That said, where is your kidnapper?”

 

“Trussed up in a cell like the rat he is,” Hermione replied flippantly. “Apparently Peter Pettigrew is harder to kill than the Dark Lord.”

 

“ _What_?!” Severus stared at Hermione with flashing eyes. “Take me to him...I have to... _he has to_ _pay_.” 

 

“You’ll do no such thing!” Hermione replied, pushing him back down onto the ground firmly. “You owe me a Life Debt, Severus. I’m not going to have you killing someone on my watch.”

 

“He deserves to die,” Severus growled back. “You know it’s true.”

 

“It’s not your decision to make,” Hermione said, “Now, come on. We have to get out of here.”

 

“No.”

 

“No?” Hermione turned back to him, a scowl on her face.

 

“No. We have to stop her.” Severus looked at her as though expecting her to know who he was referring to.

 

“Her... _ who _ ?” Hermione looked confused.

 

“Oh for the love of-” Severus covered his face in exasperation for a moment before looking back up at her. “The damnable pink menace who put all of this in motion.”

 

Hermione’s face filled with outrage as she realized exactly  _ whom _ he was referring to.

 

“Umbridge,” she growled, finally, reaching out her hand to help him up. “If she’s behind this, then we can’t let her get away with it.”

 

Severus took her hand and pulled himself up to his feet. 

 

“I knew you’d see it my way,” he said, smirking in an infuriatingly smug manner, “but remember, no killing.”

 

“Hmph,” Hermione huffed, blushing with embarrassment. “Death would be too good of a fate for the likes of  _ her _ .”

 

Severus smirked even more at this.

 

“Did I mention how much I love your sadistic creativity?” he said. “As long as it’s not directed at me, that is.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Hermione replied, smirking back at him as her blush faded, “I’ve got just the thing to satisfy both of those requirements.”

 

“Lead on, then,” Severus said, gesturing with his hand for her to go ahead of him. “I simply cannot wait to see what you’re planning to do.”

 

“That had better not be sarcasm,” Hermione replied with a sniff.

 

“Oh no, on the contrary,” Severus said, his expression darkening, “I have never meant anything more in my life.”


	16. Sacrificial Lamb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been awhile. There’s no good excuse. I’m sorry.

 

“Come here, my sweet,” Umbridge said, her voice saccharine. “I shall braid your hair while you finish your final practice.”

 

“Are you sure that my runes will be good enough, Mum?” The girl peered through thick rounded glasses with an expression that sought approval, her messy, straw-like hair falling down to her waist.

 

“Don’t you worry your little head, Natalie,” Umbridge replied, “I know that you won’t let Mummy down.”

 

The girl was not her biological daughter, Dolores knew, but she was to be used for the final ritual, and she felt a bit of giddy excitement that passed for maternal glee due to the fact that the girl would be participating in such a monumental event. 

 

Dolores had kept Natalie hidden away in the catacombs ever since the girl had been given to her by the Dark Lord himself when he’d finally taken the Ministry. No one knew she was there, not even her servants. Dolores did not ask why this child was so important, and the Dark Lord neglected to mention it, so she did not think it was important. Natalie was shorter and stockier than a girl of her age was supposed to be, and she was on the uglier side of plain, but it didn’t matter. 

 

She was ready.

 

“Our Lord is beautiful, our Lord’s power transcends the heavens. May our Lord’s wisdom shine down upon us in the important work that we do,” Natalie recited, her eyes growing unfocused.

 

“Very good, Natalie,” Umbridge said primly, as she finished braiding the girl’s hair and pinning it up with a few well-placed charms. “There. You look just like a princess.”

 

The girl smiled, her chubby face filled with joy. Her eyes shone. “Mummy, I'm ready to go meet our Lord.”

 

Hand in hand, they went. 

* * *

 

“Bloody acromantulas. Of course it  _ had _ to be spiders,” Severus growled evilly as he pulled a long, pointed hair out of his shoulder. “Who knew they could shoot their spines at people?”

 

He glared at the blood welling around the wound as though it would stop it from leaving his body. Unfortunately, his blood had other ideas, and began to soak the fabric of his jacket. 

 

“Would you  _ stop _ running ahead and into danger, Severus?” Hermione screeched, bumbling into the clearing and nearly knocking him over. 

 

He turned to say something disparaging, but he realized that her entire face and most of the front of her was covered in thick spider silk. 

 

“You know that's worth a fortune,” he muttered as she clawed at it with a frantic noise that was inappropriately endearing. 

 

“Get! It! Off! Me!” She huffed, and he rolled his eyes, silently waving his wand at the mess. It rolled itself into a tight ball and he shrunk it down, placing it in one of his pockets. 

 

“Do you have any dittany?” He asked, deadpan. “Before I bleed to death would be nice.”

 

Hermione looked at the wound unsympathetically. “You'll live. And anyway, I saw a flash of green,” she said, digging through her robes. “Did you use an Unforgivable? You’re not supposed to be able to do that with the Limiter on.”

 

“Apparently the Killing Curse works if it’s an non-human animal,” Severus replied. “I made sure to apply a liberal dose of death to anything creepy and crawly and larger than a quarter.”

 

“You didn’t seem keen to test it out before,” Hermione replied, her voice tinged with suspicion.

 

“I may...or may not... _ hypothetically _ ...dislike spiders. Especially monster sized spiders. A lot. To the point that when I say that I meant it, I mean that I really, REALLY meant it. With exclamation points.” Severus looked away evasively, but Hermione was already smirking.

 

“I heard you screaming like a little girl from all the way at the end of the hall,” she replied smugly, handing him the dittany.

 

“You would too if _that_ _thing_ ran at you at full speed with the intent of making you an early dinner.” Severus grabbed the vial with one hand and pointed at a giant, still figure with long, spindly legs that lay slumped in the corner with the other.

 

Hermione looked at it and shuddered. “Point taken.”

 

Severus smirked- it was somehow both infuriating and endearing at the same time. “I assure you, I am very skilled at...taking points.”

 

Hermione quit staring at the surprisingly happy look on his face long enough to stick out her tongue. “Git.”

 

“At least I don’t get my retorts from the second grade,” Severus replied, snickering now. “Next thing you know it, you’ll be blowing raspberries.” 

 

Hermione was about to reply when the air began to fill with a strange, hot, prickling sensation. The hairs on her arms stood up and she only had a moment to steady herself before a shockwave of power and heat assaulted her, echoing past them both like an explosion.

 

Hermione stood from where she’d been knocked back onto her knees and she ran to where Severus lay panting, his eyes beginning to lose focus.

 

“Hnnnghhh,” he moaned, ripping futilely at the buttons on his chest, until Hermione grabbed them and began to undo them with her shaking hands.

 

“What...was that?” Hermione asked, because she was both terrified and more than a little curious to see what his skin looked like underneath.

 

‘Stupid Hermione,’ she berated herself, ‘he’s not some science experiment for you to gawk at.’

 

Inky blackness stretched from his neck down to his torso disappearing into his trousers.  Severus’ skin was so dark that it was hard to see any defining features- it made him look oddly two dimensional.

 

No...that wasn’t quite right. It was more like he was being devoured, slowly, until all that would be left was a Severus-shaped hole in the universe.

 

But that wasn’t what made Hermione pause. As she looked closer, she could see how the darkness on his skin  _ writhed- _ the snakes were still moving under his skin, their black on black scales giving her the impression that something very real was moving under the surface of his skin.

 

With shaking hands, she kissed his arm as she had before, and she had to stop herself from flinching when she heard the hiss of pleasure escape his mouth.  Blinking rapidly, Severus took in a deep, rushing breath as though coming up for air after having been underwater for an inordinately long time. The coils of the snake under her lips began to slow, but the others sped up as though growing eager to be touched as well.

 

“Come back to me, Severus,” she whispered, “I know you can...we have to beat that heinous bitch once and for all.”

 

A strange, amorphous sound escaped his mouth and she realized, based on the movement of his lips, that he was trying to say something.

 

“Please,” he was whispering, over and over and over again. “Please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease  _ please _ .”

 

Hermione looked around at the dingy, cold, stone floors. From an aesthetic point of view, it left much to be desired.  Her heart and her loins had other ideas, however, and she could feel the hot, thin line of desire shooting through her until she couldn’t help but open her mouth to pant slightly.  He looked into her eyes, his pupils dilating, and she knew then that she could not deny his request.

 

Kiss after burning kiss was pressed into his skin from his neck to his navel.  His shirt lay open and discarded underneath him and Hermione kissed him over and over, flicking her tongue out to slide the tip of it up his thin, undefined bicep up to his naked shoulder and reveling in his pleasurable response. He writhed under her touch, his back arching as she held him to her lips. 

 

Hermione knew she was being a fool. Of course he needed her now, but as soon as he didn’t... _ need _ her...he’d be back to pushing her away again.  She remembered that morning after their first tryst and paused momentarily, her lips only millimeters from his waiting skin.

 

“I meant it,” she croaked out, her breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. “What I said. Last time.  I...I love you.”

 

Severus’ eyes fluttered, but they remained mostly closed as he jerked and shook underneath her. 

 

“I will release you from your Life Debt, you know,” she whispered. “I’ll do it in a heartbeat, just as I said I would once all this is over, but it kills me to know that I’ll lose you.”

 

She reached out and pressed her fingertips against his lips, allowing herself to let a soft moan escape her lips when he kissed them.

 

It felt so fucking good.

 

Another shockwave hit them both, but this time, Hermione hardly swayed in its wake.  There was something building between them with every kiss- something thicker and even more powerful than the energy that had filled the air moments earlier.  

 

The snakes were nearly sedentary now. They’d become tattoos layered over tattoos, but they were no longer pressing their scaly ridges up against his skin.

 

Severus opened his eyes, then, his arms suddenly wrapping around her, pulling her to him so quickly that she squeaked with surprise.

 

“Did you mean it?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous with just a hint of tiredness thrown in.

 

“I-” she paused, wondering just what he was referring to.

 

“Do you really...feel the same?” The words were forced through his lips and Hermione could see how his face was growing darker with embarrassment, even in the dim light.

 

“I...I…” She stammered. His eyes were studying her lips and she couldn’t help but track the movement of his eyes.

 

“Do you...love...me?”  Each word was pressed through his teeth as though he was warring with himself to say them even as they escaped his mouth.

 

She couldn’t trust herself to speak. In her fantasies, such revelations always took place in sunlit villas or posh vacations on the Mediterranean.  Not in a dark, underground place that was more sewer than catacomb.  But even so, even with the dead body of the acromantula in her peripheral vision and the memory of spider silk on her cheeks, Hermione still knew that this moment was precious enough to demand an answer.

 

She nodded, her eyes filling with unshed tears.  Severus pressed a thumb underneath her eye gently, catching a drop on the pad of his finger.

 

“Don’t cry, Hermione,” he said, his voice gentle. “Please. I could not bear it.”

 

And before Hermione could say another word, he was kissing her breathless and everything around them fell away, leaving her  _ there _ with him. There was no other, better way to say it. She was solid and lovely and  _ there _ .

 

Blue forks of lightning arced harmlessly around them, and Severus marveled at how they lit up Hermione’s face.

 

“I love you,” he whispered, their foreheads pressing against one another as they both struggled to keep their lips apart long enough to breathe. “You. No one else.”

 

Hermione moaned and allowed him to help her pull her robes over her head.

  
Dirty floor be damned. There were far more important things that demanded to be done.  


End file.
